Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens - The Rewrite
by Bad0Wolf
Summary: My take on a rewritten story improving The Force Awakens. Thirty years after the Battle of Endor, the Empire's remnants have formed into a new hardline faction known as the First Order, which intends to reclaim the galaxy from the hands of a weakened New Republic. However, shadowy factions are biding their time until they can make their move on a fractured galaxy...
1. Author's Note and introduction

**Author's note and update :**

 **Hi to all. Welcome to my new story focusing on** _ **Star Wars: The Force Awakens**_ **. Before I start telling you more about this new fanfic, to all who read my other story (** _ **A Hunt with Wolves**_ **) the next chapter will be online before the end of the week after a two-year dry spell. Thanks to all those who have waited that long for your patience with my slow writing and I hope you'll enjoy this new story as well.  
**

 **Now, back to** _ **Star Wars**_ **. I have been planning on writing this fanfiction for a very, very long time. Since December 16** **th** **2015 in fact, the day after I first saw** _ **The Force Awakens**_ **. It's safe to say that I have rarely struggled with a film as much as I did with this one, and it was only last December, when I saw** _ **Rogue One**_ **, that I finally came to terms with it. The long and short of it is: I like** _ **The Force Awakens**_ **. It's a fun film, a great setup and I take great pleasure in watching it again and again like any other** _ **Star Wars**_ **film. But it's not the film I expected or wanted to see. I struggled for a long time to figure out just what was bugging me with it, and I started to rewrite it countless times in my head.**

 **And now, finally, I have a rewritten story in mind which I like, which I think we should have gotten, and which is worthy to be presented as a fanfiction. It will rely a lot less on** _ **A New Hope**_ **, and it won't shy away from including elements from the prequels (like it or not, they exist). But it will keep a lot of the basis of the story and most of the characters will be the same. However, I will be changing a few backstories to fit better with what I have in mind.**

 **I will be using elements from recent** ** _Star Wars_ works, such as the novels **_**Bloodline**_ **and** _ **Aftermath: Empire's End**_ **, namely to explain the political situation in the galaxy. I may also use some of the content that was revealed recently about** _ **The Last Jedi**_ **, though this will be looser for obvious reasons. My main inspiration comes from re-reading the** _ **Legacy**_ **comic books. You won't find any of the characters or organizations from those comics, but they helped a lot.**

 **I hope that you all enjoy this rewrite as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It is, after all, the product of almost two years of reflections on _The Force Awakens_.**

 **May the Force be with you all**

 **Bad0Wolf**

 **SPOILERS Post Script:  
I can't resist throwing in this spoiler because it is the biggest problem I had with the film: there will be no planet-destroying weapon in this fanfiction.**


	2. Opening crawl

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Wars_ or any of its characters. This story is purely for my own entertainment and for all those who want to read it.**

 **EPISODE VII  
THE FORCE AWAKENS – The Rewrite**

LUKE SKYWALKER has vanished.  
In his absence, the sinister FIRST  
ORDER has risen from the ashes  
of the Empire and will not rest until  
it has claimed the entire galaxy.

Despite the secession of several worlds,  
the NEW REPUBLIC refuses to be drawn  
into a new galactic conflict and has outlawed  
acts of aggression against the First Order.  
Several military personnel and influential  
politicians oppose supporting this false peace.

Seeking allies to prepare for the coming  
war, they send one of the Republic's most  
daring pilots to Jakku where an old ally of the  
Jedi has discovered a clue to Luke's where-  
abouts…


	3. Jakku I: Hope and despair

_**34 years After the Battle of Yavin (ABY)**_

 _ **Jakku, The Western Reaches, Inner Rim**_

A shadow moved into the reflected light of Jakku's closest moon, a rectangular shape that gradually blotted out its glow with its seeming never ending shape. As it grew larger, pulling itself from the dark of space to take position between the moon and the dark desert world, the diming glow revealed the trademarks of a cruiser, artificial lights and hulking metallic shapes becoming visible. Its triangular appearance, sheer size and the perceivable threat emanating from this technological monstrosity characterized the warship known to the wider galaxy as the Star Destroyer.

As the battlecruiser continued its approach into Jakku's orbit, four shapes emerged from the monolith's hangar, small moving lights marking their approach against the darkness of both space and their mother ship. The tight formation veered to its port side, moving towards the surface of the planet below.

Within the long, grey carriers that roughed through the atmosphere of the desert world, lights flickered as if out of control, providing glimpses of identical beings in white, with dark eyes, faces the same, as the pilots attempted to control their descent. The rough shaking gave way to light swerves as the pilots moved from the upper atmosphere into the dark sky of Jakku's night, the lights stabilizing along with the crafts to reveal the rows of armoured stormtroopers standing to attention. They awaited the landing of their carrier and the beginning of their mission, their blasters primed and their feet steady as their training prepared them for the oft unsteady moves of the craft. They had all been briefed for this mission and awaited it with the impatience of the soldier who knew no other way of life. Doubt and uncertainty were just as dangerous as an enemy combatant, they had been taught, to be eliminated lest it cause their demise. Now, their moment had come and they would carry out their task with the brutal efficiency that had been hardwired into them by an unforgiving regimen.

\- 0 -

The carriers moved almost silently against the night, heading for the ravine and its adjoining plateau where their target lay, practically invisible to all. But for the photoreceptor of a small droid on the outskirts of the excavation that also doubled as a small village. BB-8 had been performing a systems diagnosis when his radar had registered the approaching craft. Rolling to where he could get a clear picture of them, he focused his receptor on the carriers, his circuits rapidly conjuring the details of a report that had been uploaded into his system after a military briefing on Hosnian Prime. The report had identified the carriers as Atmosphere Assault Landers, known more commonly by the designation AAL, and which had been confirmed by New Republic intelligence agents to be used by the First Order for troop deployment from orbit. In a few seconds, BB-8 had identified the craft, the trajectory it was taking and the fact that the presence of the AALs meant that a Star Destroyer was bound to be in orbit.

With the threat clearly identified and alarms ringing in the little round droid's processors, he turned back towards the excavation and rolled as fast as his spherical body allowed him to find Poe and warn him of the coming threat.

\- 0 -

Inside one of the small huts that served as houses for the workers and worshippers who had assembled on this remote plateau of Kelvin Ravine, Flight Commander Poe Dameron watched in wonder, and mild confusion, as the man he had been sent to find showed him what he had found here, on this remote world. According to Poe's superiors, this was the element they needed to find the location of the still-missing Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi left in the galaxy. And his host also seemed sure of himself as he unveiled his find.

'This will begin to make things right', he said before pulling the hood back over the inert figure's face. 'All you need to know about Skywalker's location is contained within.'

Lor San Tekka was apparently as certain of this as he was in his beliefs, despite Poe's doubts. Just as Luke Skywalker had transcended from history into myth as the "Last Jedi", Tekka had also become a legend for those who still knew Force-held beliefs. Known as the "Explorer", he was perhaps the most well-versed being in the galaxy on the forgotten lore of the Jedi, an organization that had itself held more of religion than actual reality over the past half-century. Poe had seen first-hand several of the things that the Jedi could do while he was growing up and his belief in the Force was as strong as his certainty that his X-Wing would take flight. But the Empire's shadow had worked hard to destroy the legacy of the Force-wielding knights. The destruction of the Imperial archives after the Battle of Endor, to hamper the rise of the New Republic, had eliminated a lot of the information it had accumulated and inherited from the Old Republic about the Jedi.

But Lor San Tekka, and others, had worked hard to maintain the memory of the Order and its beliefs during the dark times. And the emergence of Luke Skywalker with the Rebellion had been the moment they had waited for. The reports Poe had read on him suggested that he had assisted Skywalker in the years following the fall of the Empire to find knowledge and ancient artefacts that would help him to rebuild the Order.

And that was where Poe's superiors believed that the key to Skywalker's location lay: in the ancient lore of the Jedi. Lore in which Lor San Tekka was so knowledgeable. And it had been at his invitation that Poe had been sent to Jakku.

When Poe had arrived, he had been surprised by what he had found: a large excavation site along the side of Kelvin Ravine with dozens of workers following Tekka's example and leadership. When he had been given the mission, he had expected to find the Explorer alone and had assumed that the choice of a world as remote as Jakku had been to avoid unwanted attention. He had not expected that the clue Tekka had claimed to possess had actually been on such a remote world to start with. As far as he knew, Jakku was not a world known to have any connection whatsoever to the Jedi.

But Tekka had explained that the excavation had been about recovering one of the oldest artefacts of the Jedi Order, and that he had been searching for it for years. And that was how he had found what he believed to be the clue to Skywalker's current whereabouts.

But Poe still had doubts. 'Are you certain that we will find what we need,' he asked. 'It doesn't look like much'.

Tekka smiled. He was an elder man whose white hair and wrinkled faced attested to the years he had seen, and the wisdom in his eyes proved that he had seen his share of defining events in that long life. Something about him inspired trust and he exuded kindness. Despite his doubts, Poe couldn't help but like the Explorer.

'Those who know Skywalker will know what they are looking for,' he answered. 'I know it may not seem like much, but it there is more knowledge in this artefact that in most of the texts, temples and stories that I have uncovered in nearly fifty years of research. I assure you, it is worth it.'

Poe's doubts persisted, but he was also on a mission and he was expected to bring back what Tekka had promised. And Tekka's certainty was encouraging. Poe couldn't claim, as the Explorer could, that he was a font of knowledge on this subject. Maybe the clue was truly hidden within the artefact.

'My superiors will surely be satisfied,' he said, turning back to Tekka. 'They have been searching for any clue for some time now'.

The old man smiled again, and sat in a small chair, inviting the Flight Commander to take a small stool in front of him.

'I am heartened to see that there is still hope in a time when I thought that only despair maintained the galaxy. But I remain convinced that there can be no balance in the Force unless the Jedi return. If your people can find Skywalker and bring him back, our salvation is perhaps not as far gone as I sometimes think it is.'

His smile had grown sad and Poe felt sorry for the old explorer who had seen empires rise and fall, and still could not see the galaxy become the better place that he hoped it could be. The pilot could understand how he felt, he had seen it in other around him, those who had seen the times of the Rebellion and the rebuilding that had followed the fall of the Empire. Many had thought that the New Republic had been the answer to the galaxy's problems. But now things were growing dark once again, and hopelessness had an easier time worming its way into people's hearts than hope did. But Poe hadn't let it defeat him yet, and he wouldn't.

'We may still have a chance, Explorer. Not all of us have forgotten what they fought for all those years ago.'

Tekka looked at him with the kind of gaze a dotting grandfather would have for a favourite grandson. 'People like you, young Dameron, go a long way to restoring an old man's faith in the universe'.

Poe smiled back at him… just as BB-8 shot through the parted straps that covered the entrance. Both men turned to the little astromech and listened as he beeped out a warning to his master. Poe's expression turned serious as he looked back at Tekka.

'We've got company.'

\- 0 -

Poe exited the small shack and drew his binoculars, magnifying their view until he caught sight of the carriers BB-8 had mentioned. Four AALs were coming towards the excavation site, each most likely carrying ten stormtroopers. This was a fight that none of them could win.

Behind the young pilot, Tekka had also come to see what was coming.

'You have to hid,' Poe told him as he lowered his binoculars.

'No,' he answered, his eyes fixed on the coming enemy. 'You have to leave, and the artefact must go with you. Let's get it to you ship as quickly as we can.'


	4. Jakku II: Faith and Awakening

Artificial lights broke through the night, growing brighter and casting long shadows around the excavation site. The four AALs were moving fast as they approached the camp; it would take them less than five minutes to arrive. Knowing the threat they carried and that their only salvation resided in desperate confrontation, the Explorer's ragtag band of workers ran to complete various tasks. Some tried to hide the precious artefacts that they had found, but most of them grabbed what weapons that had brought with them to prepare for the fight. Using crates and their makeshift huts as cover from attack, they awaited their adversary. They had known that a fight had been possible when they had come to Jakku, but what they had not expected was to be fighting a trained army.

As the workers scrambled to prepare their defence, Poe and Tekka, accompanied by an anxious-sounding BB-8, carried their heavy bundle towards the outer reaches of the makeshift village. It was heavy but Poe was a trained military operative and Tekka was surprisingly strong for a man of his age. They made good speed, but the AALs had the advantage of their powerful engines. They would get here before the two men had time to reach their destination. Nevertheless, both the pilot and the Explorer knew they had no choice. Once the AALs landed, they would be met with the workers' resistance. Neither of them were foolish enough to believe that they would be able to defeat the First Order's stormtroopers, but they would provide a bit of time for them to reach the X-Wing that Poe had come in. The artefact could therefore be protected and possibly even sent off of Jakku where it would be safer. But they needed to reach the ship first, and time had run out.

The AALs reached the plateau, their engines unleashing strong currents of wind and sand that temporarily blinded the defenders. Ramps collapsed once the transports had landed and the four contingents of stormtroopers came running out, blasters primed to fire. An authoritative voice could be heard ordering them forward as the workers opened fire. Several of the troopers were caught in the first wave of fire, some falling and others being stopped in their tracks by the shocks caused by the bolts. Injuries were unavoidable but death wasn't: First Order armourers had improved the quality of the stormtroopers' protective gear to make them resistant to most types of plasma charges. The defenders' weapons were standard and could cause damage to the armours, and even physical injury to the men they were designed to protect. If a shot reached a weak spot in the armour, it could even pierce it. But it would not be enough to kill the hit stormtrooper.

Following their training, several stormtroopers dropped to their knees and aimed their blasters at the locations they had marked as being the origin of the blaster fire, providing cover fire for the rest of their units to move in. Their helmets' optics were directly connected to the closed network of their military's battle network, allowing the information they recorded to be transmitted to all the other units involved in the fight. Several of the defenders were quickly shot down by the highly-trained stormtroopers and, while many more of the white armours took damage, it was clear that this would only slow, not stop, the First Order's advance.

-0-

Poe and Tekka heard the blaster fire but they didn't stop to take it in until they had reached the X-Wing. BB-8 was already securely fastened in the droid's slot, directly behind the cockpit and he was heating up the ship for take-off.

But the problem was immediately clear to Poe.

'We can't all go,' he said, as he took in his fighter.

If he had brought his own _Black One_ , he would have been able to carry heavier loads and other passengers in its small cargo hold. But he had been instructed to travel under the radar. He was sure that traveling under the radar meant not taking one of the Republic fleet's trademark X-Wings, but Poe only truly felt comfortable with one of these. It was also the best type of fighter that the galaxy held. Now however, he regretted not following the instructions he had been given closer to the letter.

Not even this unpleasant surprise could shake Lor San Tekka's calm. 'It does not matter that I do not escape, as long as the artefact does. We only have this hope. We cannot lose it.'

Poe turned to face the Explorer as the full meaning of his words sunk in. 'I can't leave you here. They'll kill you.'

He surprised the young pilot with a smile. 'I doubt they would. But it would be an easier fate than the alternative. You must go, Poe Dameron. You still have a part to play.'

Poe was about to argue, but a series of beeps coming from BB-8 stopped him dead. They had been made: two stormtroopers were coming their way. There was no more time to argue.

'BB-8,' he shouted up to the little droid. 'Underslung, now.'

The round droid beeped affirmatively and the belly of the X-Wing opened and the fighter's underslung blaster cannon emerged. BB-8 remotely controlled it to pivot and open fire onto the incoming troopers. Both were blown away by the canon's blast before they had a chance to open fire. This gave them a little more time.

'Help me,' Poe said to Tekka. The old man obeyed, conscious and accepting of the fact that Poe had taken control of the situation. Both men once again grabbed the heavy artefact, which was still covered under its ragged cloak. Poe climbed part of the ladder while Tekka remained below. Together, they managed to get it into the open cockpit where it fell into an odd angle.

Poe reached for the blaster rifle that he had secured into his fighter before leaving base. Somehow, he had known that he would have need of it. Jumping off the ladder, he looked back towards the battle that continued to rage in the village before turning back to his droid.

'Take the ship away from here. If you can, leave the planet. Get back to Republic space and only give the artefact to the Huttslayer. No one else; only the Huttslayer. Do you understand?'

The droid confirmed, but a further series of beeps expressed his unease at the situation and his worry for his master.

Poe tried to give him a reassuring smile. 'I'll find you, BB-8. Now go, fast.'

BB-8 beeped again and the X-Wing's thrusters activated. Within moments, the fighter had taken off from the sand and was starting to make its way away from the plateau deep into the desert night. Its departure caused a stir from the invading stormtroopers, who seemed to notice that the two soldiers they had sent to dispose of the fighter had failed. Several shots followed the small ship and, to Poe's horror, a few hit their target. Not wanting to give the stormtroopers a chance to take better aim at his fleeing ship and its precious cargo, Poe opened fire, drawing their attention to him.

Knowing of the precision of the First Order's stormtroopers, he did not wait for them to return fire, but begun to move quickly away to find cover. Tekka followed his lead, and the two ran to find shelter from the danger coming their way.

-0-

The battle was coming to an end, and the First Order was winning. It had not been much of a battle, rather a mere skirmish that had ended in a route of the excavation site's defenders. The stormtroopers' efficient tactics and expert marksmanship had sent the villagers back towards the relative safety of the huts. Some had been unable to escape, or unwilling to brave, the incoming fire to find refuge. The stormtroopers had gotten to them and were rounding them up, their orders standing that executions were not to be carried out. Not unless they encountered strong resistance.

Those fighters who had reached the huts hid inside, hoping that the stormtroopers would try to come in through the narrow, where they could pick them off one by one. Several did try, but were met with blaster bolts. The tactic did not work for long. Knowing the situation could drag on, stormtrooper sergeants called in flametroopers to burn down the huts. The fires were lit suddenly and the few villagers who weren't caught off guard burst from the burning huts. They were met by stormtroopers, who did their best to capture them but who did not hesitate to bring them down with a well-aimed blaster bolt.

The battle was winding down, as the resistance put up by the villagers was broken by the First Order. A few pockets continued to put up a desperate fight but there was little they could do to halt the onslaught. The captured survivors were being rounded up by the stormtroopers, who would await further orders before delivering them to their fate. Seeing the situation fall gradually, and expectedly, under control, the force's commanding officer sent a communication to the shuttle which was holding just above the plateau.

-0-

Poe and Tekka made their way to cover, as far from the burning huts as possible. They eventually found a small ridge a certain distance away where the pursuing stormtroopers could not find them. Yet. Poe primed his blaster rifle to full power, knowing he would need every shot to count if they were to have a chance of escaping.

But he wasn't counting on it.

The Explorer didn't have a long-range weapon, but the reports Poe had read on him suggested that he was far from defenceless. One didn't survive challenging the Empire's rule through sheer pacifism. The old man had been forced, more than once, to fight his way of situations possibly far more dangerous than this one. And his continued calm reflected that experience.

'You have faith,' he said suddenly.

Poe was still preparing for the approaching stormtroopers. 'What do you mean?'

'You told me that you have doubts about the artefact's ability to find Skywalker, but you've still risked your life to get it to safety. You have faith.'

Poe smiled, despite the situation. 'I do. I have faith in you, and you have faith in your find.'

His blaster was ready.

'Now, let's hope that faith was not misplaced.'

He just had the time to see Tekka's smile before he leapt from cover to take the fight to their enemy.

He had never lost track of the stormtroopers, not even when he had been talking to Tekka; he had heard them approaching. Now, he could take them out. All it took was a glance to identify their position, and he opened fire three times. His three shots hit his three targets and only one of his pursuers had escaped the salvo. He had ducked behind the cover of a brick wall from one of the prior constructions that had occupied the plateau before the Explorer had arrived. Knowing that the last stormtrooper would not follow them without back-up, Poe retreated to cover again and turned to Tekka.

'Let's go,' was all he said.

-0-

The last stormtrooper had seen the incoming fire from the ridge, but by the time he had registered it, the rest of his team had been brought down. Seeing his closest teammate collapse, he ran to assess the damage, falling behind the cover of a brick wall which would provide cover. As soon as he saw his injured comrade, he recognized the severity of his injury. A deep gash had appeared in his armour, and blood was oozing from it. The wound was fatal, but the stormtrooper could see that his teammate was still alive. Barely.

His helmet rose from the gaping wound until the black visors of both stormtroopers met. The dying soldier didn't have long to go. His trembling hand rose to touch his counterpart's helmet. A red streak of blood stained the smooth white armour, a trail taken from when the dying man had touched his wound. Three bloody fingers traced the helmet, like a scar. And the stormtrooper's hand collapsed as he died.

Something in the survivor seemed to snap. His hands started to shake, his head jerked around as if in uncertainty. He found himself standing up, taking in his surroundings: the burning village, the screams from the villagers, his dead comrades. And he started to run away from his dead team, and from their target.

-0-

Having risen from the ridge, Lor San Tekka had seen what had happened. The clumsy step of the stormtrooper as he had risen, and his flight. He halted a while to take in the strange sight of a fleeing First Order stormtrooper, before turning and following Poe Dameron.

-0-

A powerful mechanical hum, coming from the sky, stopped Poe dead in his tracks. He looked up to see its origin, as a gust of wind blew apart the smoke and ambers from the burning shelters and bright white lights illuminated the night. A dark command shuttle, its cockpit jutting out like a nose and its wings pointing up and outwards to create a V-shape from the sides of its main compartment, was sinister in the dark. The red lights on either side of the cockpit did little to alleviate the dread it inspired. Poe thought it resembled a large bat, swooping down to grab its prey.

The shuttle was coming into land, and the distraction it had caused made Poe lose track of their situation for a brief moment. But a moment was all that mattered. The stormtroopers emerged from the huts, twice the number that had tried to capture the X-Wing. Poe noticed them when Tekka touched his arm, wordlessly making him aware of the situation.

The young pilot raised his weapon, getting one shot off that brought down one of the incoming stormtroopers. But he didn't get another one off. The troopers reached them as he was preparing to aim for another. Unexpectedly, he didn't use his blaster. Instead, he kicked the blaster rifle out of Poe's hands. The move was that of an expert hand-to-hand fighter.

Using the momentum forced onto him by the kick, Poe rolled away from his attacker. He discarded the rifle; it would be of no use to him in this fight. He took up a fighting stance and waited for the trooper to come at him again. Another kick, he dodged, and the trooper soon attacked him with his fists. The blows he tried to deliver would have knocked Poe out if they had reached him. But the pilot had been prepared for such an offensive; he blocked the moves and retaliated with his own kick to the trooper's stomach. The unexpected counter-offensive caught his opponent by surprise and the kick made him recoil.

But the stormtroopers had the advantage of numbers. One of them bore down on Poe, using his blaster as part of his charge. He had aimed for Poe's head, forcing the pilot to use his arms crossed in an X to block his charge. New Republic Academy instructors would have given any student who tried such a tactic in training a bad grade; not just for its unconventionality, but also for its inefficiency in combat. Poe had learnt a long time ago that training and experience were two very different things, and he had done many things that his instructors would have found "unconventional".

But in this case, they would have been right to down grade him.

Poe's clumsy defence had left his midsection exposed. And one of the other stormtroopers had no qualms in using it to his advantage. A blow to his stomach sent Poe to his knees, the air forced out of him. Just as rapidly as they had subdued him, the two stormtroopers seized Poe's arms before he could come around. They roughly forced his arms behind his back and slapped a pair of stun cuffs on him to prevent further resistance.

As the young pilot tried to recover from the blow to his stomach, he tried to see what had happened to Tekka. Sounds of a scuffle nearby eventually drew his attention.

He had been right about the Explorer's combat skills: far from being unarmed, Tekka had drawn a retractable stun baton and he was using it against the stormtroopers. Their armour might be strong enough to resist most blows, but one delivered by a baton still packed a punch. And Tekka seemed to know where the weakest points in a stormtrooper's armour were. He wasn't just putting up a hell of a fight, he was dominating the fight. The blows he delivered knocked many of the troopers out, and the others moaned in pain at his blows.

However, once again, numbers did not favour them. Noticing their comrades' difficulties, the two stormtroopers holding Poe forced him round to face the Explorer.

'Explorer!' one of them called out.

By this time, there were no more stormtroopers left standing. Tekka turned to face his two remaining adversaries. He noticed Poe immediately, and the blasters pointed at his head.

'Drop your weapon,' repeated the stormtrooper. They both primed their weapons for fire.

Out of the corner of his eye, Poe saw another group of stormtroopers emerging from between the nearby burning shelters to join their comrades. Tekka had seen them too. Between a captive Poe on one side and the approaching adversaries, the odds were not in his favour.

Still wearing the calm expression that even his exertion couldn't shake from him, Tekka dropped his baton and raised his hands to shoulder level. The two stormtroopers holding Poe seemed to relax.

'Take him', one of them told the arriving stormtroopers. 'The General is arriving and will want his prize.'

Poe, having recovered from the blow to his stomach, stored that information away. So, the stormtroopers had been sent for the Explorer. Could they be seeking the same thing he was? His concerns grew as he thought of the fleeing BB-8 and the damage his X-Wing had taken.

He hoped the little droid had managed to escape to safety.

-0-

Back at the excavation site, the command shuttle had landed. After an assurance from the commanding officer that the field had been secured and that all the resistance fighters had been apprehended or executed, the ramp descended and two stormtroopers emerged, taking position to either side of it. Following them was the only member of the First Order military present not to wear an armour.

He bore a black general's uniform, a long dark overcoat, and a hat with two parts pointing out to form a V (eerily similar to the shuttle's) and the banner of the insignia of the First Order fixed to its front. His face was pale, his red hair covered by his hat but still visibly well-combed, and his blue eyes were hard and unforgiving. He would also seem very young.

The platoon's commanding officer, an imposing stormtrooper in a shining, Chrome-plated armour and wearing a black and red cloak, approached him as he reached the bottom of the ramp.

'General,' a female voice distorted by the helmet said. 'Resistance has been neutralized, the prisoners have been rounded up and the Explorer has been captured.'

A thin, barely perceptible, smile twitched the young General's lips. And promptly disappeared before he started forward into the still-blazing camp.


	5. Jakku III: Scars and Shadows

**Author's note: Thanks to all who have reviewed this story so far and those of you who have chosen to read it through; they have gone a long way to increasing my enthusiasm for this story. This chapter was written in 2 hours non-stop. I have never written anything that quickly. I love this story and I love that you love it too. Enjoy ^^.**

Poe and Tekka were dragged back into the burning village by the stormtroopers who had captured them. The heat from the fires was occasionally batted away by the cold air of the desert night, and ambers flew around them like fireflies. Several of the villagers had survived and had been huddled together in the central area where the weariness of a hard day's work had once been washed away with both drink and food. Men and women of faith, much like their leader, they had also traded stories of times gone and hopes to come. Now, as the stormtroopers stood surrounding them, only despair remained.

The pilot and the Explorer were brought before the group, where a young officer was waiting for them. Poe assumed, for his bearing, the hard look in his eyes and the authority he seemed to force on any who stood around him, that he was the 'General' that the stormtroopers had mentioned; the one who had come here looking for Tekka.

Poe was held back roughly by the two stormtroopers who had taken hold of him, while the Explorer was brought forth. Soon he was standing facing the General. The contrast between the two men spoke to the different views they held: one was harsh, the other was accepting. One had chosen to define his life with war, the other had chosen faith. There was an intensity to such a meeting and Poe waited to hear them speak.  
The General broke the silence: 'The famous Explorer.'

He spoke with a sneering tone, as he appeared to distain the very notion of speaking to Tekka.

'You have cost the First Order time and resources,' he went one. 'I hope your capture will give us what we need.'

Poe listened more keenly. Maybe he would learn something interesting. If the First Order was looking for a way to find Skywalker, he needed to know. Certainly, his return could cause them a great deal of harm. For an emerging power determined to acquire complete galactic domination, it couldn't just stand by and let potential enemies band together to stop them.

Tekka was still calm when he answered.

'What you seek, you will never get.'

The General stared at him even more harshly, if that was even possible for him. 'What could an _explorer_ know of what we seek? Of how the galaxy could grow from our guidance?'

He said that as he looked at the gathered and, sometimes terrified, villagers. The contempt in his face would have been clear enough, his voice just emphasized it.

'I have seen where you have come from,' Tekka continued. 'I know what the First Order has grown from.'

The General's eyes turned back to his prisoner. Poe spied what he suspected was disgusted amusement in him. 'And where is that?'

'From the dark side.'

A harsh laughter followed Tekka's statement.

'Your religion does not interest me, Explorer. It will be soon rendered irrelevant. Your… _Force_ … has no place in our galaxy.'

He moved closer to Tekka. 'The First Order will not make the Empire's mistakes: none will live to become Jedi… or anything else.'

Tekka smiled sadly. 'Your ignorance is unfortunate: the Force cannot be silenced. Attempts to quell it will only strengthen it. That is its way.'

The General looked away from the Explorer in disgust. 'I have no patience to argue with you. I have more pressing matters to attend to.'

Standing beside the General was one of the most imposing and eye-catching stormtroopers Poe had ever seen: covered in a Chrome-plated armour and sporting a cape with the First Order's colours, it held a blaster in its hands. It was obviously in command of the squad, but it could possibly be more. Despite the New Republic's attempts to foster peaceful coexistence with the First Order, not even those who supported the false peace argued that a militaristic power could be ignored. Intelligence gathering missions had been conducted to collect as much information on the new organization as possible, especially regarding its military. Poe had conducted several of these missions, several at high risk to him and his team. He liked to think the information he had brought back had been worth the risk. The only picture that New Republic intelligence had been able to build of the First Order was sketchy. But a semblance of hierarchy had been established.

And in none of the reports he had read had a Chromed stormtrooper been mentioned.

This was obviously a serious mission: General was not the highest rank of the First Order's army but it still held considerable importance. That such a high-ranking official, flanked by an important stormtrooper commander, had come to a remote world like Jakku in search of the Explorer spoke to its importance.

And now, the Chromed stormtrooper turned its attention towards Poe.

'Bring him forward,' she said.

 _She_? Poe thought as he was shoved forward by the stormtroopers. That was useful information as well. He would be able to report this new information to New Republic intelligence, another piece of the First Order's command chain. _If_ he could escape.

Poe was forced in front of the General, who looked at him with far more interest than he had had in Tekka. But with no less contempt.

'A New Republic pilot,' he said. 'What is your mission here?'

Poe smirked at him. 'I'm on holiday. Isn't there a summer retreat around here?'

Wit was just part of his character; even under duress, he wouldn't turn it off.

It earned him another punch to the stomach, at the instruction of the Chromed trooper. The General smiled slightly. 'Your defiance will not last.'

He nodded to the stormtroopers, who started to drag the pilot towards the shuttle.

As Poe was led away, the Chromed stormtrooper turned to the General. 'General Hux, the villagers?'

The question seemed like a formality, and so did the answer.

'Kill them all', he said, barely gracing them with a glance.

The villagers gasped and screamed as the stormtroopers, instantly upon hearing the General's command, primed their blasters and prepared to fire.

-0-

What none had noticed was the slow reaction of one stormtrooper, one whose mask seemed to bare a three-pronged scar.

After his team's death, he had run from them. He had not known what he was doing until one of the sergeants had ordered him to follow his unit. In his confused flight, he had headed back towards the fight, which had spared him immediate execution for dereliction of duty as he had appeared to be following orders. The fight had been winding down and his only task had been to assist in the round-up of the prisoners just as the General had been landing. Following this, he had been a part of the ring of troopers to secure the prisoners on the sergeant's instruction.

And now, he was being instructed to kill the prisoners. His training told him that he needed to obey orders. But his body didn't seem to obey him. Whereas all his comrades had raised their blasters the second the General had given his order, he had turned to look at him. Now, he primed his own weapon, his hands shaking.

'On my command,' he heard the captain say, dreading the moment she would complete it.

'Fire,' her voice was surprisingly calm for the order she had just given. But none of the stormtroopers hesitated. Bolts of blaster fire tore the remaining villagers apart. But the marked trooper didn't fire. He tried to pull the trigger, to accomplish all that his training had forced into him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Eventually, he let his blaster fall to his side.

The firing stopped and all the prisoners were dead.

-0-

Once the last shot had been fired, General Hux headed for his shuttle. He hadn't watched the execution. Not because he could not stand its sight, but because his attention had been fixed on Lor San Tekka. He had hoped to see something break in the arrogant old man, as his friends were slaughtered while he stood helpless. But the Explorer had merely looked on with sorrow, his eyes falling once but immediately returning to the sight of those who had followed him being executed for that. It left Hux feeling exasperated.

Tekka had seen what Hux had not. He had seen the marked stormtrooper's defiance. He had remembered his flight from earlier. And he had hidden his surprise behind the sadness of once again losing friends to make the galaxy a better place.

As the stormtroopers led him to the command shuttle, he looked at the lost stormtrooper, who remained standing with his blaster at his side, while his comrades returned to their ships. Then, he turned his head and his black visor seemed to meet Tekka's eyes. A brief moment they maintained eye contact, and Tekka inclined his head before being dragged into the shuttle by the stormtroopers.

-0-

Soon, the command shuttle and the AALs took off, leaving the burning village and the bodies of the dead behind. No eyes remained to spot what the First Order's scanners failed to pick up.

A small probe droid, with a round head and tentacle-like appendages, emerged from one of the ridges. It sole red eye had witnessed the assault and the slaughter. It had waited, and now it acted. Activating its small repulsors, it headed for the command shuttle, which had just started to take off. As the craft turned to head back into space, it attached itself securely to it, prepared to endure the rough ride through the atmosphere.

Its position secure, it sent out a transmission to the ship he knew was nearby. It had found its prey: now, the hunters could come in.

-0-

Far off from the events of Calvin Ridge, an X-Wing was flying precariously away from danger, its flight erratic. The little droid controlling the craft was having a hard time navigating. The stormtroopers had hit his stern and damaged some of the circuits controlling the engines. It had not been enough to disrupt it, but it had been enough to force the X-Wing to compensate. It was drawing more energy into other cables and threatening to overheat. Fires remained from the plaster shots that had hit the fighter and were causing further damage.

There was little BB-8 could do about the fires other than try and seal off what he could. He diverted coolant from other sectors to try and end it, an effort that had limited success, but that also forced him to try and balance the new charges heating up the struggling engines. He tried passing the energy through other circuits, ones who could take the extra charge. But it could only lengthen his time of flight, not maintain it. He wouldn't be able to leave the planet.

A part of his circuits thought back to Poe, who had ordered him away. A mechanical whine escaped him as his sensors registered the destruction at the excavation site. But he could not focus on it for much longer, his master would need to manage without him for a while.

He continued to limp through the sky in the damaged X-Wing, as nocturnal predators of sand and sky took notice of him.


	6. Jakku IV: Disobedience and Perfection

The dark command shuttle, flanked by the four AALs, coursed through Jakku's upper atmosphere, leaving the desert planet behind it. The convoy was heading for the enormous ship that had brought them to the planet from First Order space: the _Resurgent_ -class battlecruiser named the _Finalizer_.

A single _Resurgent_ -class had the power to hold off several capital ships at once, while carrying enough fighter squadrons to sustain a space engagement and thousands of troops that could be deployed on the ground. Inhabitants of the galaxy, and the galactic media who had reported on their existence in the first place, had called them by the name that they instantly evoked: that of the dreaded Star Destroyer the Empire had employed nearly thirty years before. And the name had stuck, inspiring fear in the populations of the worlds that had seen images of the return of such a familiar weapon of terror. But they had been wrong to call it a Star Destroyer. The First Order had discarded the use of the name, although the battlecruisers had been modelled almost entirely on its infamous predecessor, in the same way the First Order had been modelled on the former Galactic Empire. But both were far more efficient than either of their predecessors. They had absorbed much of the strength of what had been the most powerful military and political force the galaxy had ever seen, while also learning from the mistakes that had brought it down. None were to be repeated.

The convoy headed to one of the _Finalizer_ 's lateral hangars, where it had been given clearance to land. Contrary to those that had been built into the Star Destroyers, this hangar had the space necessary to house several AALs and command shuttles, and rows of slopping formations on either wall had been built to house the TIE fighters. This allowed for a more spacious hangar and easier access to fighters for repair. Several localized command centres completed the huge space, affixed to the walls. They managed the logistics of this part of the ship and provided communication to the bridges and the other services onboard.

Poe Dameron had been struggling against the rough handling of his stormtrooper minder as they descended from the AAL when he looked up for an instant… and was taken completely aback by his surroundings. He had heard reports of the new "Star Destroyers" and read the reports about their size. He believed he was the first New Republic operative to lay eyes on the inside of one. And it took his breath away. He knew the First Order had invested heavily in its arsenal and that it had spent years building itself up before revealing itself to the wider galaxy. But he had never expected anything on this scale. For the first time, Poe found himself doubting that the Republic could prevail against the First Order.

Lor San Tekka was escorted out of the shuttle, General Hux on his heels. 'You have your orders,' Poe heard the latter saying to the Chromed stormtrooper. 'I will be on the bridge'.

The stormtrooper stood at attention and, with that, Hux departed, followed by a cadre of sergeants.

'Take the pilot to the interrogation unit,' she said to the remaining troopers. 'General Hux wants to know what his mission is as quickly as possible.'

Poe's insides clenched. He had suspected that this would happen, but it was still unwelcome news. He would have to remember all the training he had been given to prevail, but it would still be difficult to handle the pain.

The Chromed stormtrooper continued: 'As for the Explorer, take him to the cells. He is to remain there until further orders from General Hux.'

'Yes, Captain,' answered the sergeant in charge of them.

Knowing they probably wouldn't see each other again for some time, Poe struggled to get one final word to Tekka. 'Don't worry. We'll soon be out, enjoying a leisurely stroll through the wonders of hyperspace.' He couldn't help smiling at the absurdity of his remark, as if he and Tekka had merely been delayed at the local spaceport.

Tekka smiled as well. 'Constantly faithful, young Dameron. May it never leave you.'

With those words, they were taken in separate directions. Poe still struggled against his captors, acting as an irritant to the end; Tekka retaining his unshakeable calm. Both united nevertheless in the knowledge of the ugly fates that awaited them.

-0-

Debarking from their AALs, the stormtroopers made their way to their respective divisions for debriefing, as was customary after every engagement. Several of them stayed behind to manage the injured, making sure they got to the medical unit for assessment and recuperation. Only six troopers had been killed in the assault, all by the advanced weaponry of the New Republic. Two had died from the blast of the X-Wing's underslung, while four had been shot by Poe's blaster rifle. Both had been designed for armour-piercing fire, not like the second-hand weapons of the villagers. Those had only caused damage to armour and body, not fatal harm. At worse, a night in a bacta tank would be required. But most would only require patches.

Only one trooper did not heed protocol and head to his division. His once white armour, like those of his comrades, was covered in the sand of Jakku, and his helmet still bore the three-pronged blood stain of his fallen friend. His breath was heavy and he was feeling hot. He knew he should follow his comrades and report, but he also knew he needed to get away from them.

Staggering slightly, but attempting to keep a sure pace, he returned to the AAL he had just left. It was empty, all the troopers and the pilots having debarked. Not even turning around, confident in his loneliness and knowing he could not stand the suffocation of his helmet any longer, he wrenched it off.

The first of many ragged breaths he took was comforting and slightly calming. The cool air felt cold on the sweat that matted his dark skin and cropped hair. Like all his fellow stormtroopers, he had spent most of his time on one of these battlecruisers, coming to call them home far more than any of the numerous bases the First Order maintained in the galaxy. The garrisons only remained for a limited number of rotations before being sent back to the cruisers, where a lot of their training had occurred as well. It wasn't much, but it was familiar. Something he knew would not change.

And everything was about to change, he knew.

He had known it from the moment he had seen his friend die on the surface of Jakku. They had been through training together, sweated together and laughed together. The latter had been far too infrequent to their taste, as it was severely frowned upon, if not openly reprimanded. But it had happened, and they had treasured those brief moments that belonged to them and no one else.

He had felt something snap at his loss, as he had seen his friend's bloody hand fall… as he had carried his blood as a reminder on the face they had shared. The only thing that had truly mattered to him had been taken, he realized. All he had endured had been possible because he had had that one thing to hold onto. Now, he had nothing. And he had refused to obey a direct order; such a move was treason. If anyone found out…

'FN-2187,' came a voice from behind him. He turned sharply to find Captain Phasma looking at him. She was eerily still and he had not heard her come in. Had she been there all along? He could not tell.

Turning around, he stood at attention. 'Yes, Captain.' His own voice sounded alien to him as he said the words he had uttered probably a thousand times before.  
'Submit your blaster for inspection,' she said, in the same calm tone she had always employed. The same tone she had used to order the execution of the prisoners on Jakku.

'Yes, Captain,' FN-2187's answer was his usual answer, but within, fear began to take hold.

'And who gave you permission to remove that helmet?'

'Sorry, Captain!'

'Report to my division, at once,' with those words, she turned and left him in the AAL.

She had seen him; she had seen his defiance. He wouldn't live long enough to mourn his dead friend, he would soon be joining him for disobedience. Being ordered to report to another division was tantamount to being under formal investigation for dereliction. His thoughts rushed at the speed of hyperspace, often confused until he grabbed onto the one that gave him a bit of hope. Phasma only wanted to inspect his blaster. She suspected, maybe; but she didn't know. For all she knew, his blaster had jammed. It could have been simple misfortune. FN-2187 knew it wasn't, but he still had a little time before his superiors found out about his defiance with certainty.

And he was under investigation, a potential jammed blaster was just as serious a flaw as open defiance. First Order Research & Development had worked hard to avoid such problems, but they could still occur. Phasma might be trying to ascertain which had been the culprit, to take the appropriate action. Reprisals would be swift; weakness was not tolerated in the First Order. It needed to be eradicated to ensure only the strong remained.

The fear relaxed slightly: he wasn't condemned. Not yet. It would take a few hours for the report to come in with the final results, FN-2187 knew. And the debriefing would take up enough time to keep Phasma busy. Those few hours were short, but they would have to be enough. He needed to find a way off the ship. And away from the First Order.

Determined despite the odds stacked against him, he put his stained helmet back on.

-0-

General Armitage Hux marched onto the primary bridge of the _Finalizer_ with at a brisk, almost urgent, pace.

All those present, save those whose tasks were too important to warrant unneeded distractions, stood at attention. Hux didn't even bother telling them to return to work. Once he had strolled by them, along the pathway leading to the bay windows at the fore of the bridge, they resumed their tasks. Such was the perfection that the First Order would eventually bring, Hux thought whenever he saw this. Obedience and structure would bring stability to a galaxy that seemed to have resisted it at every turn of its long history.

As officers continued to work at maintaining the massive battlecruiser in their respective stations, either on the upper level of the bridge or in the data pits below, Hux stood at the bay, legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind him, looking out into the dark of space beyond the transparisteel windows. He did this every time he returned, allowing his thoughts to drift briefly. Beyond, he could see the hull of the massive war machine that he was born to command, and further into the dark shone the countless stars. Stars that seemed as far from him as they had seemed from those who had looked up to the skies before space travel had been 'discovered'. Hux scorned those dreamers, who had hoped but barely put the effort into gaining what they really wanted.

His thoughts went back to Lor San Tekka, the pray he had finally claimed. He had rambled, as Hux had expected, about Jedi, about the darkness the First Order supposedly represented, and about the Force. Hux scorned him as much as he did the fools who had followed him. The galaxy was better off without them. He was not foolish enough, as some were, to dismiss the existence of the Force; he had read the reports the First Order had compiled about Force-sensitivity and the powers that could be harnessed from it. But he knew that the galaxy didn't need such beings. It certainly was not theirs to command. Such beings had claimed to 'guide' the Old Republic, yet had allowed its insidious spawns of corruption and complacency to paralyze the galaxy. Such beings had attempted to rule the Empire, and the Empire had failed.

The First Order would not fail. It would not fall prey to the mind-trickery of these evil beings. Any who attempted to stop them from bringing the galaxy to heel for its own good would be destroyed.

Hux found that he was clenching his fist so hard that, had he not been gloved, he would likely have drawn blood. Was this a result of his anger at how the galaxy had so often been led astray, or his own determination that he would not let it happen ever again? Perhaps both. Anger could be turned into determination. And Hux had forged much of his own determination over the years.

Turning away from the bay, he headed to the command console to his left. Reports, graphs and analysis pertaining to the raid on the excavation site had been sent from the data pits to his terminal for his eyes only. Other files could easily be conjured by the holograms concerning other ongoing operations he was either in direct implication with, or that his high-level clearance allowed him to see. Soon, the divisions would submit the full debriefs they would receive from their troopers, reports that would be compiled from the data pits into a single summary which would be uploaded into the First Order's battle network, the massive web of information that linked and ran the war machine that had been gradually built over the past decades.

Hux would be able to assess the performance of the troopers he had personally selected for the assault. He already knew that the results would show perfection. He expected nothing less. And the skirmish had been a minor engagement. Only the Explorer had posed a serious threat, according to the gathered intelligence. But he had been caught with surprising, yet welcome, ease.

Now, the next part of the plan could begin. Hux brought up the hologram files that he had been consulting repeatedly, almost obsessively, for the past few months. No new information had been uploaded; the intelligence was the same. It would soon be a year since the first attacks had begun. At first, they had appeared random, stray pirates and thugs attacking convoys in dangerous reaches of space. Piracy was rare but not unheard of for the First Order. In the first years of its existence, as it grew in the Unknown Regions of the galaxy, it had faced its fair share of would-be conquerors and profiteers. But they had put a stop to it during the early wave of colonization, testing the might of their new war machine against the alien forces of uncharted powers. The campaign had been a success. And little had plagued the First Order since.

Therefore, First Order analysts had quickly determined that the attacks on their convoys were not random and were not the acts of pirates. As this conclusion was reached, the attacks grew bolder. Remote bases came under attack, and isolated training facilities were also raided. The attackers followed a similar MO every time: a swift and brutal assault which, in spite of their elaborate tracking technology, the First Order's security grids were unable to pick up. By the time the garrisons had reacted, the attackers had vanished.

Little was known about them and Hux had to make the case stick with several senior officers of the First Order to maintain the operations designed to track them down. But he had known in his bones then what he knew with certainty now: the First Order was being hunted. And Armitage Hux didn't not like to feel like pray. He had defended the theory of an unknown foe against all those who would have chosen to ignore it, out of complacency. Luckily, they had caught a break.  
Only once did a regiment react fast enough to catch the attackers during one of their raids. It was a testimony to the training they had received that they had been able to return fire against their attackers and bring one of them down, but it was also a painful reminder that the First Order was not yet perfect that none had survived to bring him in.

What the First Order had found on the site of the ambush had been enough to provide them with a picture of what they were fighting. And the first clue as to how they could be found. It had taken a long time but Hux and his analysts had followed the trail that had started with that one body and traced it through tenuous links in the entire galaxy.

The key to unmasking this shadowy group of attackers, a persistent thorn to the designs of the First Order, was Lor San Tekka. Their agents had been seeking him, intelligence had revealed, and Hux's own operatives had concurred with him that finding the Explorer would be the easiest way to bring this mysterious enemy into the open.

Now, all Hux had to do was wait.

-0-

Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka, the _Finalizer_ 's bridge officer, approached General Hux at his command console.

"General, all troops and ships are accounted for, but we have one problem."

Hux turned his gaze slightly to the side but did not face Mitaka.

"What problem is that, Lieutenant?"

"The X-Wing that escaped from the assault has reappeared on our radars, still on the surface of Jakku."

Hux looked back at the holograms in front of him. "It is of little concern. The X-Wing was damaged in its flight, it cannot possibly maintain itself beyond the planet's atmosphere, let alone sustain a jump through hyperspace. Dispatch a TIE unit to its location and dispose of it."

The order was also meant as a dismissal, but Mitaka remained. He seemed unsure of whether he should continue with his train of thought, his choice lying between braving his superior officer's displeasure but ensuring continued efficiency within the First Order's hierarchy, or safeguarding his own position by complying and sacrificing much of the progress that differentiated the First Order from the Empire. He eventually made his choice.

"General," he said, the single word causing immediate immobility in Hux. "Might I remind you that active forces remain under strict protocols when engaging New Republic forces. We cannot allow even a single fighter to escape and…"

"Lieutenant," Hux said in a tone that brooked no interruption. "You have your orders. I expect them to be carried out without delay."

The meaning behind his words was clear enough. Mitaka stood at attention before turning away to carry out the General's order, carrying his misgivings with him. He only hoped that one squadron of TIE fighters would be enough to deal with the X-Wing.


	7. Jakku V: Scraps and Opportunities

**Author's Note: finally, I have finished this chapter after struggling for a while to know exactly what it would contain. This is not the full Chapter V. I cut a whole planned section from it because I still haven't finished it and I really want to share this latest part of The Rewrite with you. Thanks to all who have stayed faithful to this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one will come along very soon.**

 _ **34 ABY  
Jakku, The Western Reaches, Inner Rim  
Niima Outpost**_

The heat of the desert day weighed down on the small settlement lost in the endless desert sands. Of the few villages and constructions to have been built on Jakku, Niima Outpost was the closest the desert world had to a hub. The others had been built in places where living was less likely to pose a threat in such a dangerous environment, locations spared the worse of the day's heat and the night's cold, shielded as best was possible from nocturnal and daily predators. Such settlements were few and far between, the number of people choosing to remain on Jakku limited to outcasts, worshipers of forgotten or forbidden faiths, scavengers and those unlucky enough to be stranded on such a forbidding world. The population of the world had increased thirty years prior as surviving soldiers from both sides of the battle that had littered Jakku's surface with casualties, both living and mechanical, had been marooned in the sands. Some had managed to repair ships or found ways to escape when visiting vessels had come from the sky, but many had remained behind, victims of circumstance and infortune. But even with the arrival of these unwitting settlers, the overall population of this backwater world had never exceeded that of a small city on a sparsely-populated Outer Rim word.

Niima Outpost was also born as a result of this battle, made to profit from and destined to grow because of the one resource that the galactic war had gifted to this world: the carcasses of the ships and war machines that had died there. The junk and valuable pieces they still held provided the one possibility of enrichment on Jakku. Niima the Hutt had understood that and decided that she would be the one who should benefit the most from such a trade. She had made sure to build her outpost close enough to the scrapyards to attract the scavengers who wished to sell their wares. And she had brought in smugglers to ferry the goods off world, reaping profits from all sides and dominating the scrap trade that proved the best way to survive on Jakku if one chose to remain there.

None knew what plans Niima had had for her outpost, if she planned to have a castle built in the sands of the desert world or if she merely wanted to guarantee her control over the scrap trade. Some even went as far to say that, with the gradual decline of the Hutt powers in the aftermath of the war, she planned to build her own city, one she hoped would rival Nal Hutta's and allow her to reign supreme over Huttkind. But such ideas were common hear-and-say, and Niima Outpost was no more than a collection of less than a dozen true buildings and various stands belonging to merchants of strange goods.

The only two places known throughout Jakku were located in the Outpost: the Concession Stand, a sheltered-blockhouse where all the junk was brought to be traded, and the Constabulary, a small shack at the Outpost's periphery where the only form of law enforcement present on Jakku was located.

When the day's heat started to turn with the course of the sun, scavengers from all parts converged on Niima, using the last hours of daylight to conduct trade and secure the only currency known to this world: supplies of food and water. Some of the smaller stands provided such things, but none could equal the Concession Stand's dominion of the trade. As such, Niima the Hutt's legacy was preserved. In more ways than one.

-0-

A speeder coursed along the sands, blurred in the distance by the heat rising from the desert bed and a trail of sand following it.

It passed through the archway that was the only attempt Niima Outpost had had at an artistic construction. A visiting scholar, a specialist of Hutt culture, had once explained that such construction could also be found on Hutt-dominated worlds throughout the galaxy, such as Teth, Tatooine and the Hutt world of Nal Hutta. The construction was the starting point for the fence that surrounded the Outpost and was rarely barred, but always guarded. Several militiamen were joined by thugs for hire, and they kept a close watch on the gate. Not for attacks from beyond the boundaries, but from within.

The speeder's rider didn't even bother to stop or even acknowledge the presence of the guards, just as they seemed not to notice or care that someone was entering the Outpost.

Parking the speeder close to the Concession Stand, the figure dismounted. Clad in beige strips of cloth that did not absorb heat, dark goggles and wrapping made-up a mask that shielded skin from sun and sand. The mask came away as the figure landed on flat-booted feet and revealed the face of a young woman, reddened and sweating from the heat. Strips of dark brown hair stuck to her face and she was panting. The rest of the mask came off as she no longer required its protection.

Rey's day had been long but fruitful: she had been scouring several of the big shipwrecks of the Graveyard of Giants, scaling into the confines of corridors and rafters to find the pieces that others either did not know about or were not confident enough to try and claim.

Rey had no such worries. Years of labouring in the scrapfields had made her sure-footed and she knew that nothing was impossible when one was willing to risk everything for it. She had no fear of pain or death. She had long gone beyond such concerns. She did not survive for her own sake, but for that of the people who had come to depend on her.

For the past few weeks, she had been working on the mammoth ship that locals had called the Mandallian. Far larger than several of the other ships put together, it was a beast that had been named for a giant of the wider galaxy and known to any who had survived in the galactic underworld. It would take several days to cross in its entirety by foot and had become a home to forgotten communities of hermits and predators who did not take kindly to outsiders. But Rey had long since learnt to avoid them. If they found her one day, it would be because she wanted them to.

Today, she had scavenged several parts that she knew would gain her a fair amount of supplies from Unkar Plutt, Niima Outpost's junk boss. Even so, the idea of dealing with the Crolute still made her sick. But he had dominated the scrap trade since Niima's death. Many had tried to kill him to claim his position but he had survived them all. Many preferred to stick with Unkar rather than let someone worse take over his business.

Rey unlocked the straps keeping her net in place and it fell to the grounds, the valuables she had collected cradled within. She pulled the net towards the Stand, where several tables were available for cleaning the items the scavengers collected. Unkar was capable of rejecting a piece, or even lowering the price, if he was given an unclean part. Rey would not give him the satisfaction of rejecting her.

After cleaning her parts for more than one hot hour, the young woman took her wears to the Stand's centre, where Unkar conducted his business from within a metallic stand that would protect him from attack by unhappy scavengers. And allow his thugs to take out the attacker before they could cause him harm.

Unkar looked over her pieces, as if appraising their worth. It was a little game that he enjoyed playing, to flout his domination over everyone who came to him for supplies. Rey stood patiently as he pretended to determine whether he would pay her for her wares. They both knew he would, the quality of her findings could not be dismissed.

'These pieces you brought me,' he said in a slow drone. '...are worth…'

He looked at her almost disdainfully before delivering his verdict: '…five portions'.

Rey had expected it as well. It was not as much as she had hoped, but she knew she was lucky. Many would be fortunate if they got even a whole portion for their finds.

Unkar slammed the promised pay on the shack's counter and Rey took it, turning away without a word. She was aware that the Crolute's eyes would be following her with distaste, as they always did. He had hated her since she had arrived to Jakku and she had hated him too. But they were both too useful to the other for them to act out.

Returning to her speeder, Rey was eager to return home for the night before another day of scavenging would force her up, a repetition that hadn't ended since she had come to this world. Not that she tried to escape this cycle. Coming to Jakku had allowed her to escape a life she no longer wanted to live. The one she had found in the desert may not be much, but it was the life she had chosen and she would live as long as she could, not for herself, but for those who were counting on her for survival.

As she reached her speeder, she heard a sound coming from nearby. Someone was whispering her name. She turned to see a child, dressed in filthy rags, beckoning to her. Recognizing him, she turned to follow him as he led her away from the Stand and closer to the makeshift huts of the merchants. Once they had reached cover from prying eyes, the boy turned to her.

'The Anchorites send their greetings,' he said, as subservient to her as he was to his masters.

'What do they want?' Rey asked, not unkindly. She knew many children such as this boy, taken into the orphanages of the desert by the hermits known as the Anchorites and made to live their lives in servitude to their strange religion.

'Nothing. But they want you to know before anyone else. A ship has come to Jakku.'

Rey almost sighed in exasperation. The Anchorites had always been strange, from the moment she had met them upon first coming to the desert. And their requests had always been strange. This one was no different.

'Ships come to Jakku every day, to collect the junk Unkar sells them. What do the Anchorites want me to do with this one?'

She doubted it was to steal it. The Anchorites had no need for ships; they did not intend to leave Jakku.

But the boy continued. 'This one is different. A fighter, similar to the ones who fought in the Great War of Times Past. And it has been shot down into the Goazon.'

This caught Rey's attention. A working fighter on Jakku! That was news that would attract attention. While the X-Wings and the TIEs of the "Great War of Times Past" had already provided countless parts to the junk trade, none of them were recent and their value even in the underworld was limited. Rey knew that a recent fighter's parts would have even Unkar giving away untold quantities of supplies so that he could sell them to visiting smugglers.

'Do the Anchorites know where in the Goazon this fighter was shot down?' she asked the boy.

'It was coming from Kelvin Ridge, that's all they know. They pray to the Consecrated that you will get to it first.'

Rey smirked. 'How kind of them. What do the Anchorites want in exchange for this information?'

The boy looked her in the eyes, as his masters insisted they do when delivering messages of upmost importance. 'The fighter will have a pilot. If he lives, the Anchorites want him to be delivered to them. Alive.'

Rey did not know what the Anchorites might want with this pilot, whether they intended to kill him or convert him to their faith. But she didn't even know whether there was a pilot. Most likely, but the odds of surviving a crash were second to none.

'Tell them I will check the fighter and let them know what I find. If I find anything.'

The boy bowed his head in submission. Pity welled in Rey at the fate of this young child forced against his will into a religion he never would have heard off had he not been born an orphan. She reached into her pack and handed him one of the rations she had gotten from Unkar. 'Take this,' she said kindly, a smile starting to tug at her lips, lighting up her soft features. 'You need to eat before you return to the Anchorites.'

The boy's eyes shone for the briefest of instants as he looked at the offered food but they steeled before he answered. 'The Anchorites will feed me when I return… if I return.' And he turned away from her, disappearing among the shacks.

Rey put the ration back into her pack. She had seen many children like this one, and she knew that they knew nothing except servitude to the Anchorites. But she had seen something else shine in the eyes of the boy as she had offered the food, and heard the doubt in his words about the odds of his return to the orphanage. He would return she knew, and maybe he would start asking himself questions. It was a dangerous path, but so was the life that the Anchorites forced on their orphans. Maybe her generosity would allow the boy to see that he didn't have to be the indentured servant he had been brought up to be.

Turning away, she made for her speeder. She needed to find the fighter before anyone else did. The Goazon was large and the odds of finding it were slim. But she suspected the damage would allow her to find it and she had an idea on where she needed to look.

That was more than enough to find it.


	8. Jakku VI: Feelings and Fears

**Author's Note: I've just realized it'll soon be two months that I haven't posted a new chapter. I've had to wrinkle out a few story knots, some of which affected this chapter. Now those problems have been resolved, I can finally share with you one of the longest (and hardest) chapters I have written for this story. I'm getting the feeling this rewrite is going to take me a lot longer to write and finish than I thought ^^.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _ **34 ABY  
Jakku, The Western Reaches, Inner Rim  
Goazon Badlands**_

BB-8 was in trouble.

He had known that the moment the blaster bolts had hit the X-Wing. Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to maintain the small craft as long as he had hoped. The fires had spread, causing more and more damage to the engines and shutting down system after system. Eventually, BB-8 had stopped trying to save the X-Wing and focused on using what little manoeuvrability it still had to land. Not even the little droid's sensors could have identified what he had done as a 'landing'. The desert sand had proven effective in lessening the damage to the fighter as it crashed to the ground.

But that had only been the beginning of BB-8's problems. Releasing himself from the droid slot at the top of the X-Wing, he had tried to reach the desert bed by rolling down the fighter. But the angle at which it was stuck had worked against him and BB-8 had slipped off the side, hitting the fighter's wing and landing in a cloud of sand on the ground. He might have landed on his head had he not had the ability to rotate it on his spherical body.

Now, the little droid looked around him, his receptors taking in the desert around him. The endless dunes were teaming with small lifeforms that no human would have detected but that could not hide from advanced sensors like BB-8's. But none of them would be any use to him in his current situation.

He looked back to the crashed X-Wing. The cockpit was still exposed, which was optimal. But BB-8 had no way to break it open without restoring the systems of the little fighter. And no way to gain access to the unresponsive cargo located in the cockpit.

BB-8's head turned several times, taking all parts of the problem into account… and his head drooped as he whined. Poe had trusted him to get the cargo to safety but he had failed. His master had no doubt been taken prisoner by the First Order. BB-8 knew what that meant for organics and it made his processors heat up in reaction. His programming told him that he needed to help his master, as only when they were together in an X-Wing together could their system work appropriately. But he was also programmed to obey orders and Poe had given orders to get the cargo to safety.

BB-8 could not yet figure out how to get the cargo out of the cockpit. He had several appendages that could allow him to break through the transparisteel. But it would take time, time he wasn't sure he had. His sensors had picked up larger organic lifeforms in the sands; it wouldn't be long before they would notice him and come closer to appraise him. The heat of the day might not affect him in the same way as it affected organics, but it took its toll as it forced his cooling system to work harder to maintain his operational status. Sand was already starting to lodge in his circuits, complicating even simple operations. And, the most worrying aspect for a military-graded astromech, he knew that he would soon become a target. First Order protocol were clear: engagements with New Republic forces were strictly prohibited. And if they happened, none could be left to report it.

TIE fighters would undoubtedly be sent to find and destroy the X-Wing that had escaped from Kelvin Ridge. It would not take them long to find the crash site and ensure that nothing remained. Poe Dameron would be added to the list of Missing In Action personnel. Military officials in the New Republic might wonder about what had happened to him and they may even suspect First Order involvement. But they would not act. The rules of engagement had been made clear and any breach would be severely reprimanded.

Knowing he needed to move fast, BB-8 prepared to work on the cockpit. He didn't include in his calculations how he would move the cargo when he got it out. But he would have to find a way.

However, as he prepared for the long work, an alert went up in his receptors.

Turning his head around once again, he scanned the desert. Something was out there. Something dangerous.

At first, nothing registered, save the lifeforms he had already identified. He scanned for anything that might be dangerous or anything different. And he eventually found it. He first identified a solid and organic mass moving at surprising speed through the sand. Then he registered the head that had been raised into the air, a T-shaped form with bright red eyes…

…and it was heading straight for BB-8.

-0-

Rey's speeder shot over the dunes of the Goazon. She knew that she needed to be quick if she wanted to find the wrecked fighter first. But that depended on whether she would find it at all.

The young woman had been living on Jakku for nearly five galactic standard years now. She knew this world better than many others she had visited in the galaxy and she had managed to go without getting lost for a long time.

But the Goazon was dangerous even for those who knew the desert well. When one put aside the predatory species such as the razorwolves, the junk-eating worms, the ripper-raptors and others from both sand and sky, the greatest threat was succumbing to the heat or, worse, simply getting lost. If one grew up or learnt to survive on Jakku, they would find their way by the light of the sun. They learnt that the Goazon was between Niima Outpost and Kelvin Ravine, or between Carbon Ridge and the Sinking Fields. If you were in none of those places, you were in the Goazon. There was a reason that this place was called the Badlands.

Rey used the sun's location as it began to set to find her way towards Kelvin Ravine. Once there, the hard part would begin. She would have to find a way to locate the downed fighter and assess it before the sun set completely. She knew that she was taking a risk. If she found the fighter, she wouldn't have a lot of time to analyse it before the sun set. Working at night was impossible on Jakku, the lack of light, the cold and the predators' hunting habits made sure of that. Even if she didn't find it, she would have to return home before she lost the light.

But she knew what benefits the fighter's parts could bring, so she was determine that she would find it before nightfall, even if it meant she would return the next day to continue the work. It wasn't so much about starting to work on scavenging parts from the craft. It was more about making sure that she could find it and that no one else had. Fighting over junk was not unheard of and Rey generally stayed away from such fights, but she might have to for this one.

She smiled as she thought of what Kieron would say when he learnt about this. He would once again worry far too much. He knew that what she did was dangerous and most of his protests were only half-hearted because he knew of no other way to feed everyone. But he was still concerned and she loved him all the more for it.  
Rey stopped her speeder on a larger dune which would give her a good view of her surroundings. She knew she was close to Kelvin Ravine and that she might get lucky. If the fighter was damaged, it would have left a trail, one Rey could follow.

She was in luck: against the still-clear blue of the sky, she spotted a trail of smoke. It could only be the downed fighter. Rey smiled to herself, as she prepared to head in that direction.

But before she could, she noticed something else, the very thing that she had feared. In the distance, a rapidly-moving shape was distinguishable along the hot sands. Heading straight for the rising smoke of the crash.

Rey fired up her speeder. The race was on.

-0-

BB-8 could only squeal as the massive creature raced straight for him.

It moved fast, almost faster than the little droid could process. Soon, it was on his position and emerged from the sand to reveal itself in its entirety. Its body resembled that of a large worm, with a large mouth beneath its slim neck and T-shaped head. Its back was covered by a shell that protected its weak spot from attack and most likely allowed it to bear the important weight of the sand it swam in. It dwarfed BB-8 with its length nearing twenty meters and the little droid watched almost hopelessly as its massive maw closed around the nose of the fighter.

It wouldn't take long for it to feed on the whole thing, and the cargo would be lost forever. The odds were not in his favour, but that did not stop BB-8 from charging the creature and using his arch welder to shock it.

The electricity did not hurt the massive beast but it did draw its attention. Its head turned with its mouth still closed around the fighter's nose, taking in this inconvenience. For a while, the droid and the predator remained in place, looking at each other. BB-8 moved first, turning around and rolling as fast he could away from this dangerous foe. The worm practically spat out the fighter he had been eating and, after diving back into the sand, took up the chase.

Although BB-8's spherical shape allowed him to move incredibly fast, he was still hampered by the sand, a terrain he wasn't used to navigating. This was a problem the worm did not have and, although the droid had gained an important lead on it, it would not last. Gradually, the worm was closing the distance, its head and the ripples it caused in the sand the only signs of the threat BB-8 was under.

The droid's only concern was completing its mission, and it meant preserving the cargo in the fighter at all costs. It was a simple calculation and, as long as the worm's attention was on BB-8, it wasn't on the crashed ship. But further calculations gave the little droid only data that he had already processed. Even drawing the worm's attention away from the fighter would not be enough. There was nowhere to hide. And no one would come to his aid.

The worm overtook BB-8, its entire body having dived under the sand, and emerged straight in his path. The little sphere stopped spinning and beeped in alarm. Nothing would save him now. The worm opened its large mouth, its meal unable to escape him.

The shots that rang out hit the predator in its side, their potency greater than BB-8's arch welder. The creature screamed, though whether in pain or in anger was unclear, and turned to face this new threat.

BB-8's head turned and his receptor focused on the source of the blaster fire. Three figures were approaching fast, mounted on rusty speeder bikes, and firing continuously at the worm. This distraction seemed to anger the creature and it dove back under the sands, which provided some cover, and allowed him to get closer to his attackers.

The little droid saw his chance, turning around and rolling as fast as he could towards the wreck of the fighter. He had one more chance to get the cargo out of here. The solution had come to him but his calculations didn't give him a good assurance of success. But he had no other choice. No other solution could work. And this one _might_.

His sensors told him that the worm had re-emerged from the sands and attacked the figures on the speeders. Their shots continued to echo through the silence of the desert. As BB-8 reached the fighter, another sound reached him, one of metal breaking under strain and an organic cry of pain. He turned to see the creature had seized one of the bikes in its massive mouth, the speeder practically disappearing into it. The other speeder had overtaken the bulk of the creature, but turned around and continued shooting at the worm, each of its shots meeting its mark.

BB-8 was about to turn around to recover the cargo when his circuits identifying what was wrong with what he had been processing.

One of the speeders was missing.

The net fell over BB-8 before he could register where the third speeder had gone. Another organic cry, this time of triumph, was what he heard as he tried to roll away.

-0-

Rey pushed her speeder as hard as she could to the place where she had seen the trail heading. Only speeders or another sort of hovering vehicle could have left such a trail and moved as fast over the sand. And there weren't many scavengers on Jakku with such material. She knew who she was dealing with.

What she caught sight off when she reached the ridge confirmed her fears. The Teedo and his band of scavengers had found the wreck before she did… and were confronting a nightwatcher worm. The massive creature had emerged from the sand and was being shot at by one of the scavengers, still on his speeder. Another speeder showed through the mouth of the worm.

Rey knew what the worm would do to her speeder if she tried to get close. Besides, there was no telling whether the scavenger would attack her too. The wisest thing to do, she knew, was to turn around and leave. If a nightwatcher had gotten its sights on the wreck of the X-Wing, there was no chance she could check it out. Most of the massive cruisers in the Graveyard had already fallen prey to them, but their size had made sure that not even decades of feeding had been able to reduce them to nothing. Crashed fighters were easier prey. She would try again soon, hoping against hope that something worth salvaging had survived the onslaught.

But, as she turned to leave, she heard a sound that made her reconsider. It was faint, so faint that she was surprised that she could even heard over the snarls of the worm and the sounds of blaster and speeder engine. Maybe she had just imagined it, but for some reason she couldn't explain, she remained where she was and followed the sound.

Her gaze fell on the wreck of the fighter and found the Teedo… and the origin of the sound: an active droid, whining against the net that had been thrown over it. Teedo was struggling against it, cursing constantly in its strange language. Rey could understand it and, for some reason she could not explain, she suddenly feared for the little droid's life.

Her hands found the controls of the speeder and she headed towards the struggling pair. Her focus was fully trained on the two and her purpose. The idea that had come into her mind was foolish to say the least, and unfeasible to be practical. But Rey knew that it would work.

As she was about to reach them, both still unaware of her approach, she grabbed her staff. It would be close.

The distance closed.

Teedo turned his eyes briefly away from the struggling droid, and saw Rey heading straight for him.

But it was too late.

Rey thrust her staff forward, hooking the net to it and pulling it along with her as she turned and turned in a tight circle before heading off the way she had come.  
Teedo hadn't had time to grasp what was happening. When Rey's staff had taken hold of the net, the alien had still been gripping it… and he continued to grip it as Rey sped away. But the force of her momentum did not allow him to either hold on to his prize or remain on his bike. The small scavenger was thrown by its force across the desert sand, his sight turning into a blur and leaving him with a mere confused image of a young woman heading towards him and stealing his prize.  
When he managed to overcome the spin that the throw had sent him into, he sat up and looked around for the thief. She was nowhere to be seen. Only a trail of swept sand made it clear to Teedo that she had been here.

-0-

Rey raced across the Goazon as fast as she could, with her heavy bundle still hanging from the staff that she held in hand. She knew it wouldn't take Teedo long to recover from the shock of her theft and that, when it happened, he would start chasing her to recover the little droid.

She needed to put as much distance between them as possible.

Or so Teedo would think.

Unlike the alien scavenger, Rey knew these parts quite well and she also knew that she would soon be arriving on a completely submerged ship that most scavengers had forgotten about. It had been stripped of its valuable parts long ago and none believed that it could be useful anymore.

But Rey knew better. She had used it more than once, taking refuge from Jakku's dangerous storms. And now from unwanted trackers like Teedo and his crew. Not even the trail that she left would give away her location. The winds of Jakku would cover it up quickly and, even if Teedo had picked up her trail, he would assume that she had continued forward. By the time he realized he had lost her trail, he would be unable to identify where she had gone.

Reaching the hidden entrance wish she was sure she was the only one to know of, Rey slowed the speeder and allowed into to slip into the opening, which was almost completely covered by a small ridge of sand. Coming from the opposite direction as he was, Teedo would never notice the small opening. Even if he rode over the ridge, his speeder would take him far away before he could even register what he had just come across.

The heat abated as soon as she entered the carcass of the ship. Rey shut down the speeder's engines so that they would not give away her position and to keep the confined metallic place from heating up too much…

…and for the first time since her great rescue of the little droid actually felt its weight at the other end of her staff.

She dropped the staff and the net fell to the metal floor, causing the droid to squeal. Spinning its head around its metal body as quickly as the net allowed it to, it fixed its black receptor on her and unleashed a flurry of angry beeps. Rey understood them all, having made herself fluent in binary from an early age.

'Shush,' she told it.

To her surprise, it obeyed. Looking up at her, she had the impression of being under the scrutiny of an adorable feline creature. It almost made her smile.

'I'll get you out of there," she said, coming down from her speeder and reaching for her knife.

She made short work of the net and freed the little droid from its prison.

"Your antenna's bent," she noticed.

With a quick movement, it bent its head to allow her to remove it. As Rey straightened it out, she looked at him with questions running through her mind. What was a fully functional, state-of-the art BB unit doing on a world like Jakku? It seemed unlike that he belonged to any smuggler. All they could afford to maintain were second hand versions of older models. And even if they could get their hands on one like the one she had in front of her, they would have to be paid a pretty sum to keep in such a state.

'Who are you?' She asked.

He gave her a series of beeps.

'BB-8. And where do you come from?'

Another series of beeps.

'Classified, really? Well, whoever your classified is, he won't be coming to get you soon. You can stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, I'll take you to Niima Outpost and pass you on.'

BB-8 moved back as she tried to put his antenna back onto his head. The beeps that came from him were negative and insistent.

'Go back to the X-Wing,' Rey repeated in Basic with incredulity. 'No way. Whatever that ship holds will be gone by the time either Teedo or the worm are done with it. It's not worth risking anyone's life over.'

BB-8 beeped at her again in what seemed like anger.

'Something precious?' Rey repeated, mildly interested as he told her that he needed to recover something from the wreckage.

More beeps.

'Galaxy-defining,' she repeated, with renewed incredulity.

This droid's circuits were most likely cross-wired, or so filled with sand that he couldn't process affectively anymore.

'We will return to my home in a few hours, once Teedo is no longer likely to find us and, tomorrow, I will take you to Niima to make the most of losing any valuable pieces from the fighter.'

She got to her feet again, turning her back on BB-8. She meant to check her speeder for any damage or even start cleaning it to pass the time when she heard a new sound come from the little droid: a mechanical whine.

Something in that heart-wrenching sound tore at Rey's sympathy and, frustrated though it made her, she looked back at him and nodded.

'OK, we'll go back to check out the wreckage,' she said.

BB-8's beeps were now celebratory as he rolled to her.

"But don't get your hopes up. Between the nightwatcher worm and Teedo's scavengers, nothing might remain of the wreck."

But something might have. If she could recover anything from it, in addition to BB-8, Rey would make sure of it. Unkar would pay a good price for new pieces.  
BB-8 beeped something else to her.

Rey couldn't help but smile down at the little droid.

'You're welcome.'

-0-

 _ **On the**_ **Finalizer,  
** _ **In orbit over Jakku**_

The massive cruiser's hangar was filled by active First Order officers, technicians, pilots and stormtroopers, all busy conducting various activities. The AALs that had been used for the assault on the excavation site at Kelvin Ridge needed to be cleaned of the sand that they had accumulated during the brief operation, as commands from the bridge ordered that all craft be prepared in the event of unexpected circumstances.

None of those charged with overseeing or conducting this effort noticed the small droid who had boarded the _Finalizer_ attached to the hull of one of the transports.  
None had noticed it levitating away from the position it had secured itself into for the trip through the atmosphere back into orbit.

And none had seen it before it disappeared into the ventilation shafts of the battlecruiser.

The probe droid had been given its instructions and followed them to the letter, as it had been programmed to do. First, it travelled into the bowls of the ship where the detention cells remained. It needed to find the exact location of the prisoners the First Order had brought on board and calculate the quickest way to get to them.  
It didn't take long for the probe to locate both prisoners. Its receivers picked up on them as the only two captives on board the _Finalizer_ and headed for them. They were being kept in two different, but close, cells. One's vital signs were showing erratic signs consistent with an organic undergoing physical interrogation. The other was calm, despite his captivity.

With the information safely stored in its processors, the probe left to its primary target: the battlecruiser's bridge. Once again, it didn't take it long to reach it.  
Placed in the ventilation shafts above the bridge, the probe transmitted its information and the success of its mission to the controller, which was close by.

-0-

 _ **In orbit above Jakku**_

The shuttle had been waiting for several hours until the probe reported on its success. Now that its mission was a success, they could begin.

The hold of the transport held a team of men and women from different known species. All were armed to the teeth with blaster rifles, holstered handheld blasters, and a variety of other weapons ranging from sniper rifles for some to vibroblades for others. Some went bare-headed, others wore helmets. But all had the expression of people who had been in combat before; the expression of people who had killed.

All had their weapons primed for the fight ahead. They had been briefed that they would be attacking a First Order battlecruiser. If any of them felt anxious at the idea, they did not show it. Their commander had chosen them for the operation because he had faith that they would not falter when the time came to act.  
He sat on one of the benches with them, closer to the command centre where the pilots were busy maintain the ship's course and cloaking device until the time came to launch the attack.

The commander was a Human male, the survivor of many battles all of which showed in his cold expression and the scars on his face. He was anxious to get going, and he could feel a similar impatience in his men. Impatience coupled with fear.

Not fear of the upcoming confrontation; some of them had waited for such an opportunity for a long time. Nor was it a fear of death that they felt; they had all stared death in the face more than once and had learned not to fear it.

Their fear originated with the 'Wraith', the being leading them, the one who stood silently with the pilots in the cockpit. A tall figure, dressed in dark robes, and with a face hidden by a mask. None had seen him in combat or knew if he could fight. But all felt the subtle menace of the man, the surety that he could kill them all if he wanted to. Such a surety that made sure any order he gave would be obeyed. This was a figure that the commander had never come across, not in the many wars he had waged, not even in the darkest parts of the underworld he had lived in for years. He could understand his men's fears. And he had taken up the nickname that they had given him; none of them had been made privy to his name, but 'wraith' was the most appropriate term that anyone could apply to such a being.

The long overdue communication finally came in from the probe droid and the commander headed to the cockpit to hear what this would mean.

The probe's controller was attached to the Wraith's wrist. A holographic projection was being emitted from it, providing them with all the information that they would need for the attack.

'Commander,' came the voice from behind the mask. To his ears, it sounded terrifying. Not because of its metallic timber, but because of how young it seemed. No doubt a distortion created by the mask.

'Sir,' he said. There was no point asking how he had know that he was there, this was something that he found he had to get used to. Just as he had to get used to taking orders from this being.

'We are almost ready,' he continued. 'I will speak to your men. They will follow my orders to the letter. You shall see to it.'

The menace made clear the meaning of his words. 'Yes, sir. My men are professionals; they will not disappoint. We will recover the prisoner for you.'

The figure turned to face him, his mask hiding his expression.

'No, Commander. They will not. I will recover the prisoners myself. Yours will be a different mission entirely. I will only require the services of two of your…mercenaries.'

The commander heard the disdain in the Wraith's voice. It made him cringe with anger and, emboldened by the strong emotion, he did nothing to hide it. 'As you wish…sir. My men will be more than up to any task you set for them.'

'I expect nothing less.'

He turned to the pilots. 'Wait for my word. We shall soon begin our approach, but keep us out of the ship's range until I give the command.'

'As you command, Venerable,' the pilot said. The commander did not know him or his co-pilot, but both were as mysterious to him as the one who now had command over him and his men. Dressed in black robes similar to the ones he sported, they spoke to him with almost religious deference. It unnerved the commander as much as the imperceptible aura coming off the Wraith.

But this was a job like any other. He would carry it out.

The Wraith turned to him again. 'Come, Commander. Let us brief your troops.'


	9. Jakku VII: Escapes and Attack

_**34 ABY  
**_ _ **On the**_ **Finalizer,  
** _ **In orbit above Jakku**_

There wasn't a single part of Poe's body that didn't hurt.

The interrogators had done a real number on him since he had been brought to his cell onboard the Star Destroyer. They hadn't touched him, no directly anyway. They probably thought that that kind of torture was beneath them. First Order interrogators did not resort to the beatings commonly encountered in the galactic underworld. There was something inherently evil, to Poe's mind, about the clinical way the First Order approached violence, whether in their "pacification" of conquered worlds or the interrogation of prisoners. Instead of their fists, they used drugs; they inflicted as much psychological damage as they caused bruises. It was a planned and calculated approach to torture that only twisted minds could spend time developing.

Everything that had been done to Poe since his arrival on the First Order cruiser had been designed to cause him discomfort, if not overt pain. That came later. The only physical sign of the brutal interrogation he had endured was the bruise he had gotten to his forehead when the drugs had caused a violent seizure; he had hit his head on the metallic frame of the chair that restrained him. The chair itself had been carefully designed to be slanted so he was neither standing, lying or sitting. Several needles and probes could be used for delivering anything from electric shocks to simple pricks. Monitors were hooked to the walls of the cell to show his vital signs. They couldn't kill him too quickly, could they.

Poe had never undergone torture before and it was far worse than anything he had ever imagined. All New Republic pilots were required to undergo commando and intelligence training, which included how to resist forced interrogation. Poe had thought such training had been tough, but he had had no idea how tough the real thing would be. For the first time in his career as a pilot, he was glad that his instructors had forced him through such a task.

To his great surprise (and pride, if he weren't in such pain), he had resisted everything the interrogators had thrown at him. They hadn't been able to get him to say anything, other than what protocol allowed him to say: his name, rank and callsign. But he also knew that they would not stop there: he had information they wanted, and they would return for it.

Poe occupied himself with trying to keep track of time. While no easy task, it was made easier by the presence of the armed guard at his side. Twice already, the guard had been relieved since the interrogators had left. All he could do was guess how long each stayed but it was enough to give him a rough idea of the time that had passed. But, until he found a way to escape his cell, it would not help him.

Once again, the cell door opened. As before, Poe dreaded the return of the interrogators, but it was only another changing of the guard. A stormtrooper, entirely identical to the one who had been with Poe for the past hours, entered.

But it was not for a duty shift, as he had thought.

'Captain Phasma sent me,' he said to his counterpart. 'She wants the prisoner brought to her.'

Hope surged in Poe and was strengthened when his restraints were unlocked by the stormtroopers and he was roughly taken out of the interrogation chair. This could be his chance to escape.

Pulled off the chair by the two troopers, he involuntarily started to regret leaving it when his cramped muscles started working again. Stifling a cry, he almost fell to the ground, but his captors held him up, and set stun-cuffs on his wrists, to prevent any attempt at escape.

That would make things harder.

But not impossible as he realized that only one of the troopers was escorting him.

However, as soon as they left the cell, Poe began to realize that it would be a lot harder that he thought. The grip the trooper maintained on his arm was firm and his blaster was very close to his face; set on stun, yes, but it would still stop any escape attempt. It didn't help that he would be lost in the middle of a First Order Star Destroyer, or that his captor seemed to be doing his best to take the most complex passages ever, as if he were deliberately trying to make Poe lose what little sense of direction he had in the event of his escape.

The pilot nevertheless maintained hope that he could spring on this lone stormtrooper and overpower him without activating the stun cuffs; which wasn't easy but doable; or his stunner. In what seemed like a stroke of luck, the corridors seemed to be less and less crowded, and a lot narrower the further they went. An opening was coming up, Poe soon saw, in the first deserted corridor he saw; possibly the only opportunity he would have.

'In there,' his captor said, just as Poe was about to make his move. The pilot was taking by surprise: the stormtrooper was pushing him… _towards_ the opening.  
Poe momentarily stopped, but the perfect posture of the stormtrooper had broken and he forced him into it. Soon, they were both cramped into the small opening, where it seemed no one could see them.

'Listen carefully,' the clearly-agitated stormtrooper said. 'If you do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.'

'What?' Poe said, utterly confused about what was happening.

The stormtrooper set his blaster down on the floor and then did something that Poe had never seen a stormtrooper do before: he removed his helmet. Beneath, he saw the face of an anxious man, his black skin covered in cold sweat.

'This is a rescue, I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?' he said in an urgent tone.

Poe was still trying to process what was happening; not five minutes ago, he had been a prisoner, planning an escape that had few chances of actually working. Now, his escape was being offered to him in a way he had never expected.

'Are you with the Republic?' he asked the stormtrooper. He had heard of attempts by Republic Intelligence to infiltrate the First Order's ranks, but he had never been told whether such missions had succeeded.

'What? No. I'm breaking you out. Can you fly a TIE fighter?'

Could he fly a TIE Fighter?

'I can fly anything,' Poe answered with absolute confidence.

A relieved smile appeared on the other man's face, but Poe was still confused.

'Why are you doing this? He asked.

The stormtrooper looked back at him. His eyes were steady but for a brief instant when he looked down.

'Because it's the right thing to do,' he said with seeming conviction.

Right.  
'You need a pilot!' Poe guessed.

'I need a pilot,' he confirmed, conviction giving way to uncertainty.

Poe was no fool, he knew this could be a trap. It wouldn't be the first time a prisoner had been lured into revealing information by a fake escape attempt. But the concern and the desperation he saw in this young man's face was hard to fake. And if that didn't convince him, the fact that he had removed his helmet did.

The pilot grinned to the stormtrooper: 'We're going to do this.'

Relief flashed over his face as his hope was renewed.

'Okay, we don't have a lot of time. I prepared something for you,' he said, and took Poe further into the cramped space, where two alcoves were concealed in the darkness. After his eyes accommodated to the darkness, Poe saw a set of stormtrooper armour.

'You want me to get into that?' he asked, incredulous and mildly disgusted.

'You need to blend in,' his unexpected saviour answered. 'It won't be long before your escape is noticed and if you wander around the ship as you are now, it will make it easy for the First Order to find us.'

Poe couldn't deny the logic, or the preparation the stormtrooper had put into his escape plan. But the idea of putting the armour of the enemy on, one he had faced many times over the past years, made him uneasy.

Putting his misgivings to one side, Poe removed his jacket and anything else that would make wearing the armour even more uncomfortable, and placed them in the bag that the stormtrooper had also thought to bring. Soon, he was clad in the white armour save for the helmet.

'I'm ready,' he said.

The stormtrooper, who had been standing watch as Poe changed, came back to him. 'OK, we need to make our way to the hangar, get the first TIE fighter we can find and…'

Poe interrupted him. 'First, you need to tell me where they're holding Lor San Tekka.'

'What? Why?'

'I got him captured, I need to get him out. And he might have information we need.'

The stormtrooper looked like he was about to lose his composure once again. 'Do you have any idea how risky it was to get you out of your cell? Not to mention trying to smuggle you off the ship by stealing a TIE? If we try to break Tekka out, our odds of getting away will be way worse.'

Poe could understand where his fears came from, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. 'Tekka can take care of himself. If we take him out of his cell, he may even manage to escape on his own. But I can't leave him here: The First Order will do unspeakable things to him, like they did to me.'

The stormtrooper stopped moving and looked Poe straight in the eye, his expression deadly serious. 'If I stay here much longer, I am a dead man. I am sorry about your friend, but I'm not going to risk my life on a suicide mission. I need to get as far away from the First Order as I can. And you're my pilot.'

Poe hated it, knew there was no way he would ever truly accept it… but he was right: The odds of getting Tekka out were slim at best. He had been given his chance to escape, so he should take it. And, also, he still needed to find BB-8 and recover the artefact. He had absolute faith in the little droid, but he had seen the damage done to his X-Wing: too much to allow it to leave Jakku. Which meant BB-8 was still likely on the surface. He needed to find him and quickly.

'OK,' he conceded, and pulled the helmet over his face before saying in a distorted voice. 'Let's do this.'

-0-

 _ **In orbit above Jakku**_

All the preparations had been made, plans explained, and objectives laid out. Commander had found it necessary to amend a few items, but the Wraith would brook no opposition: things would be done the way he wanted them to be done, or not at all.

As he had ordered, two of his men would accompany him while the rest of the group would have the mission of securing the hangar to prevent the First Order from cutting off their escape. Commander had designated his second-in-command, a tried and scarred Twi'lek named Erenia, to be one of them. He had complete faith in her, and she had been with his crew for most of the past decade.

'It's time,' said the Wraith, who was standing at the back of the cabin, flanked by Erenia and the other soldier chosen to follow him.

Commander stood, immediately followed by his men. 'Weapons ready,' he said. The sound of priming weapons filled the cabin as the Wraith raised his arm, the one which bore the probe's controller.

Silently, but almost solemnly, he pressed a single button.

-0-

 _ **On the**_ **Finalizer** _ **,  
** **In orbit above Jakku**_

The probe droid, still hiding in the ducks above the primary bridge of the _Finalizer_ , reacted to the command sent to it, its red photoreceptor becoming brighter as its main protocol activated.  
The ion charge tore through the bridge, knocking those closest to the actual blast to their feet, neutralizing the energy that powered command controls and all systems in proximity. The lights went out, plunging the whole of the bridge into darkness. The unexpected halt in the routine of the First Order's disciplined officers threw them into momentary confusion. Where there had once been controlled expressions and calm exchanges of information and delivering of orders in clipped, sophisticated voices, there was now confusion as several anxious voices spoke at once. Cohesion and concision had given way to panic and uncertainty. Several groomed accents had slipped as the less-experienced officers and crew members reacted to the unexpected attack.

General Hux felt a rush of disdain rise in him as he beheld the chaos that had unfolded because of a single blast.

'SILENCE!' he yelled, his raised voice cutting through the chaos like a vibroblade.

The order had the desired effect: silence returned to the bridge as emergency backup lighting kicked in. The bridge was soon covered in a red glow that allowed everyone to get their bearings again. Hux moved towards the viewport; his console's power now powerless and useless.

'Captain! Bridge officer.'

Both officers arrived swiftly, both shaken but controlling it with varying levels of success. Captain Edrison Peavey was an older officer, one who had seen action during the days of the Empire. He had already known war, so he knew how to react in such events. Mitaka was less sure and seemed to have difficulty controlling his emotions, but he put on as brave a face as he could, determined to show how well trained he was and unwilling to lose face in front of Hux.

The general might have enjoyed Mitaka's discomfort, had he not been seething with rage at the sudden attack on his battlecruiser.

'Report,' he ordered curtly to both officers. 'Are we under attack?'

'I don't know, sir,' the captain replied, before turning to the tracking technicians. 'Were any ships registered on our scanners before the blast?'

'Negative, Captain,' the senior technician said. 'No exits from hyperspace and no ships detected anywhere near the _Finalizer_.'

'That's impossible,' Hux said, as he tried to contain his anger. 'We were attacked with an ion charge. It must have come from somewhere.'

'The charge has knocked out all power on the bridge, sir,' another technician reported. 'But from what I can tell, most of the ship's power remains. The _Finalizer_ is still operational.'

Hux took pleasure in the information. Decades before, the Rebels had made ion weapons the chief components of their arsenal. The Empire's Star Destroyers, for all their fierceness and technologically-advanced systems, had been easy prey for such attacks. Analysts had deduced that such an approach, partly designed by the Rebels to prevent loss of life (a meagre attempt to prevent the Empire from labelling them as terrorists), had been one of the key advantages of their fleet in engagements against the Empire.

The First Order, aware of the mistakes of their predecessors, had therefore worked hard to ensure that such weaknesses would not be repeated. The only way to prevent mistakes from being made again was to know what they were and how to avoid them a second time. Part of that strategy had been to redesign the repartition of energy in battlecruisers; each primary system had its own closed system and energy distributor. As the greatest strength of an ion charge was its ability to course through a system and shut it down further away from the point of impact, such a division prevented these charges from shutting down the whole system and neutralizing the ship. Although its primary bridge was powered out by the charge, only the functions served by its power source were neutralized. The rest of the ship was still operational.

Another mistake that the First Order had been determined to learn from was what happened to a battlecruiser when its bridge was neutralized. At the Battle of Endor, the Imperial fleet had been severely set back when its flagship's; the Super Star Destroyer _Executor_ ; bridge had been destroyed by a suicide run from one of the Rebel fighters.

Hux turned away from the viewport. 'We must reach the secondary bridge immediately and restore the _Finalizer_ to full capacity.'

He started walking towards the exit. 'Captain, with me. Lieutenant Mitaka, remain here and do what you can to restore power. We need to recover our command ability as quickly as possible.'

The captain followed in Hux's footsteps as Mitaka started giving out orders.

Once they were out in the corridor, Hux reached for his comlink. It had also been knocked out by the blast. He needed to reach a power source as soon as he could so that he could establish contact with the secondary bridge. And he also needed to talk to Captain Phasma.

He knew that this attack, wherever it came from, was just the first shot in this engagement.

-0-

 _ **Alongside the**_ **Finalizer**

The probe's function had been accomplished. The charge it had carried hadn't been designed to take out the whole cruiser, but it had temporarily blinded the First Order. This would allow the shuttle to move in and land before anyone noticed it had.

Commander's troopers were ready for battle, and the Wraith stood behind them, eerily silent behind his dark mask as the shuttle's pilots moved to land the craft in the hangar they had chosen as their landing point.

Their prize was within reach.

-0-

 _ **Aboard the**_ **Finalizer**

FN-2187 felt the sudden change in the battlecruiser's rhythm. He would have thought nothing of it, had he not been worrying for his and his new companion's safety. Once they figured out that he had broken this New Republic pilot out of his cell, they would start looking for them. That was why he noticed the subtle shift in the _Finalizer_ 's movement. Something had gone wrong, he knew it.

His suspicions were confirmed by the slight flicker of the lighting. He stopped, suddenly very worried.

'What's wrong?' his companion asked, the sound of his voice distorted by the stormtrooper mask he was still wearing.

'Something's happening.'

His suspicions were confirmed a second after he spoke with the sounding of an alarm, and an announcement ordering all personnel to battle stations.

FN-2187 sighed. 'Luck is on our side.'

'Luck?' The pilot asked, incredulous. 'We're on a ship that is being attacked.'

The stormtrooper realized that he was right. The relieved smile he wore beneath his mask disappeared. But FN-2187 also knew that this was the one chance they had.

'If the crew is focusing on an attacking ship, they won't be looking for us. That makes our escape easier. We need to get to the hangar quickly, before they are filled with troops.'

-0-

 _ **In one of the**_ **Finalizer's** _ **hangars**_

Stormtroopers, technicians, pilots and countless personnel ran every which way in the small hangar, as alarms bells rang all around them. They all had duties to perform, and regulations to follow.

None noticed the dark shuttle that entered the hangar until it made it through the ray shield. Only those closest noticed it, at first… but all heads turned to it when the shuttle's laser cannons opened fire. Explosions rang out as the blue bolts hit the hangar floor, sending crates, droids and personnel flying in every direction. Soon, the once pristine hangar had been reduced to burning fires, piles of rubble and the bodies of its crew. Survivors were trying to escape the continued fire of the shuttle while trying to make sense of the sudden attack.

Having reeked their devastation, the cannons ceased firing and the shuttle landed. The ramp came down and several armed mercenaries, each wearing a mask with two glowing red eyes, ran forward, knees bent, and weapons primed, ready for combat should they face it. Commander was leading them and, as his team took up positions around the shuttle to protect it, he used a hand gesture and several teams of two headed towards the exits. They had their mission.

Emerging from the shuttle last, the black figure the mercenaries had called the Wraith strode forward, followed by the two soldiers Commander had designated to accompany him. He ignored the carnage around him and walked forward, unarmed, into one of the openings. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and the danger of entering the bowels of one of the First Order's Star Destroyers, accompanied only by two mercenaries, didn't seem to concern him in the slightest.

-0-

 _ **On the secondary bridge**_

General Hux reached the secondary bridge of the _Finalizer_ , and found it in chaos. He wasn't surprised by this, an attack on a battlecruiser had never happened before. But it infuriated him that a crew belonging to the greatest military power the galaxy had ever seen could be reduced to a chaotic mess when confronted with such a problem. The First Order still had a long way to go.

As Hux and Captain Peavey strode onto the bridge, accompanied by a squad of stormtroopers they had requisitioned on the way, an officer stopped in his stride as he noticed them. Recognition overcoming his face, he stood at attention and turned before shouting, 'Officers on deck.'

The rest of the crew halted briefly, their faces turning to take in Hux as he strode to the front of the bridge… before the bridge officer emerged from one of the lateral alcoves.

'Back to work,' he ordered, his voice rising just enough to be obeyed, but not enough to be called a shout. Instant obedience followed while the bridge officer headed to Hux.

'We have taken full command of the ship, General Hux,' he said, falling into step beside him.

'Has power been restored to the primary bridge yet?' Hux asked.

'Not yet, sir. But…'

'That is your first priority. I want this ship to be operational in the shortest delay possible. What about our scanners? Are they…?'

'General, if you'll allow me?'

Hux stopped in his tracks, just short of reaching the bridge's viewport, and turned to face the bridge officer, his eyes showing a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Although he was one of the highest-ranking officers on the _Finalizer_ , the bridge officer was still of a lower rank than Hux. That he dared to interrupt him as such indicated either his indiscipline, or the direness of news he may have. Hux hated being interrupted, but dismissing one's ideas just because they weren't yours was counter-productive… and could create more enemies.

'Proceed, Lieutenant,' Hux allowed.

'A shuttle passed through our defences after the ion blast disabled the bridge,' he reported.

The frustration at the interruption faded from Hux, replaced by complete surprise. 'What?'

'Reports we have received say it landed in one of the secondary hangars, one small enough that they can control. The personnel that survived their fire have only been able to provide scant intelligence.'

Hux turned away from the bridge officer and continued his way to the viewport. From there, nothing seemed to be out of place: the hull of the _Finalizer_ remained the same as usual and no ships could be seen around it. How had they managed to gain access to the _Finalizer_? Even with the primary bridge disabled, most of the battlecruiser's tracking equipment was operational. An intrusion into one of the hangars would have been noticed.

'Do we know whose attacking us?' Captain Peavey asked the bridge officer.

'No. All we know is that an unknown shuttle, one capable of escaping our detection, landed in our hangar. What reports we've had suggest that it is capable of carrying at least several dozen troops.'

'Could this be a surprise attack from Republic forces?'

'Impossible,' Hux said, drawing the attention of both men. 'The Republic would not have launched such an attack.'

'How do you, sir?' The bridge officer asked.

'We have enough informers in the capital to know if any such action has been planned. Regardless, who is attacking is the least of our concerns right now.' He turned to the bridge officer. 'As I said, Lieutenant, your priority is restoring the _Finalizer_ to full power.'

The officer nodded and returned to his work.

'Captain, put me in touch with Captain Phasma.'

A few minutes later, a miniature size hologram of Phasma appeared on the viewport.

'General Hux.'

'Captain, insurgents have seized one of our hangars. Captain Peavey is sending you the details as we speak. Gather what troops you can and retake it. And I require at least one prisoner for interrogation.'

'At once, sir.'

'And one more thing,' Hux said, before Phasma could terminate the connection. 'Send a detachment to the prison cells and secure Lor San Tekka.'

Phasma did not answer straight away, the small moment of silence the only indication of her surprise at the order. 'Yes, General.'

The hologram disappeared. Hux looked back out into space. Capturing the Explorer had been the first part of a plan that even he had not been sure would work. Now, it could turn out that his plan worked even better and sooner than he had expected.

-0-

 _ **In the**_ **Finalizer** _ **'s prison cells,**_

No one had come to visit him since they had brought him to his cell.

No courteous interrogators and no torturers. No doubt they expected him to eventually break under the solitude and hope for the companionship of the torturers. But that wasn't in Lor San Tekka's nature. He had known solitude before. Solitude of the kind that could shatter a man. He had let it nearly break him, using everything he could to escape it even though he had known it was futile. It had taken him many years and countless mistakes to come to his realization: that he wasn't meant to escape his solitude. At least not as he had tried. Embracing it had been the sole solution.

And it had brought the companionship he had always craved. In the years following the fall of the Republic and the Jedi Order, something had been born in the underworld of Coruscant, where Tekka had spent so many years of his young life. First, it had been mere symbols adorning the walls. No one made anything of them at first, but they began to give people hope. Soon, the symbols grew into something else, a shadow of what had once been a great power. It began to attract followers who gathered in secret to worship. Not a deity, but an ideal. The ideal that had died with the Jedi. The followers themselves had given their growing flock no name, but others had: they became the Church of the Force.

In those dark days, Tekka had found the Church when he had reached his worst time. They had taught him much, but he had learnt more. And it was to those learnings he turned to when the solitude was all that remained. None of the Church's followers had the gift of the Jedi, the ability to use the Force. Not that Tekka knew anyway. But they taught that every being in the galaxy could touch it. They had taught Tekka how to mediate, to be at one with all that surrounded him. In his first tries, the young man he had been had let his impatience and his inability to focus prevent him from feeling, from hearing, from knowing. But now, he could remain in such a meditation for hours, his mind free to drift and follow currents of thought, air and feeling that not even he could make sense of. The solitude had not gone, but he had made it a part of him.

And that was how he heard them coming.

A few muffled noises from outside his cell warned him before the hissing of the door opening. The Explorer opened his eyes and beheld the dark figure that stood over him. Below the hood of his scorched and battle-torn cloak, a pitiless mask looked down on him.

'Look how old you've become,' the distorted mechanical sound that came out of the mask hid the voice that Tekka had once known.

'Something far worse has happened to you, Kylo Ren.'

-0-

The troops had received their orders directly from Captain Phasma to secure a prisoner. Not even one of them had even thought of disobeying her. Orders were to be obeyed, not questioned. It didn't matter that none of them thought the orders made any sense or went against what one individual believed. Several of the troopers had been on Jakku, others had not. But all those who would have been given the order to fire on the unarmed prisoners would have obeyed.

Most of the prison's personnel had left, reassigned to different positions because of the attack on the _Finalizer_. Many of the troopers wished that they had been ordered to accompany Captain Phasma to the hangar, to deal with the insurgents attacking them. Were they really insurgents or was this a covert attack by the thugs and rebels who ran the New Republic? It didn't matter. They had attacked the First Order. They were enemies to be destroyed.

They had almost reached Lor San Tekka's cell when they came across the intruders.

Both groups stopped in their tracks as they came face to face. The intruders were only three: two soldiers, fitted in armour with dark, round helmets and round, glowing red eyes. They bore blaster rifles and several other weapons strapped to various parts of their armour. And they flanked a still-captive Lor San Tekka, who seemed to be following them with little resistance.

The third was a tall figure, clad in dark robes and wearing a helmet. It barely moved a muscle as he saw the troopers.

'Halt,' the squad's sergeant ordered, as the others primed their blasters and pointed them at the intruders. 'You have attacked a First Order battlecruiser and you will answer for it.'

The soldiers prepared their weapons, but the third waved a command for them to stop. 'Guard the prisoner,' he said. 'I will deal with them.'

After a moment's reluctance, they obeyed.

The figure stepped forward, removing a cylindrical-shaped object from its belt. The sergeant's visor, connected to the battle network, rapidly analysed the object to determine what it was. It didn't take long for the results to arrive.

'All troops, kill him,' he ordered immediately.

The lightsaber came to life, a jagged and unstable blade of crimson red energy, with two crossguard points on the sides. None of the bolts fired past the blade, which the figure twirled and spun to deflect them. Several were harmlessly thrown into the wall. Others returned to the troopers who had fired them. Unlike the less efficient blasters of Tekka's followers on Jakku, First Order blaster shots could pierce most, if not all, armours. The troopers died upon being hit.

Those that remained tried to eliminate their target, but it moved too fast, a blur even for the high-quality sensors of the stormtroopers' visors. Before they knew it, he was in their midst, the blade continuing its dance. Troopers were sliced down before they could react, with such ferocity that the survivors felt their will give way.  
Soon, only three remained, far away enough to not fall pray to the vicious blade and the wraith-like being wielding it. They were all afraid, but they were First Order stormtroopers: they would not run, and they would not hide. They raised their blasters, ready to open fire.

But before they could, the figure turned to them. Not to cut them down, as it had their fellow soldiers, though. Instead, a raised hand was all that happened. And all three stormtroopers found themselves up in the air… and their windpipes being crushed by an invisible force. Their blasters fell to the floor as their hands went to their throats to remove hands that were not there. The figure closed its hand into a fist and the troopers' necks broke at the same time, their now limp bodies falling back onto the ground…

…Leaving him standing alone, a dark figure among the corpses of the white-armoured stormtroopers.

'Let's move,' Kylo Ren's metallic voice said, breaking the trance of the mercenaries who had just witnessed something they had never seen before. As they followed him, they both tried to process what they had seen. Only Lor San Tekka was unsurprised at this display of power. He wasn't even afraid or in awe of it.

But it did sadden him.


	10. Jakku VIII: Tactics and Strategy

_**In the**_ **Finalizer** _ **'s captured hangar**_

Nothing happened for what seemed like hours. Commander knew it hadn't been, but it could feel like it, just as it could feel like seconds. Until the Wraith returned, his sense of time would elude him. Hence the chrono he kept at his wrist and which had seen him through almost all the battles and wars he had fought in.

His team still held the hangar and no attempt had been made to reclaim it. The surprise of their attack had given the mercenaries precious time to clear the hangar, take up positions and prepare to defend it against any force the First Order sent against them. Commander knew that the stormtroopers were not amateurs and neither were their officers. They would take precautions and prepare their assault with as much information as possible, and as many troops as possible. Their surveillance had probably already told them about the bombs that Commander's teams had fitted to every single entrance to the hangar. They wouldn't attack from all sides and make the mistake that almost anyone else would. And Commander was counting on it.

The only thing that he didn't know was which of the entrances the First Order would chose to attack from. It didn't matter in the long run, but it still made him nervous. Regardless of whether his plan succeeded or failed, he might lose some of his soldiers. And even after all these years, Commander still hated the idea.  
One of his soldiers touched his shoulder and indicated one of the entrances. Commander didn't change his stance but did focus his attention on the rigged blast doors. How his man had known that this was the place the attack would happen, he didn't know, and he didn't presume to ask. If he was right, the brief time Commander would gain from that knowledge would be invaluable.

His instincts proved correct.

The charges his soldiers had placed on the blast doors blew, and several cries of pain were heard behind them. The debris flew both into the corridor the doors serviced and back out into the hangar. Commander shouted an order and those soldiers who had been facing other openings shifted their attention to the threat. Several crates had been collected behind which they took cover.

The first stormtroopers stepped through the flames, led by one who wore Chrome armour instead of the white one Commander was more used to seeing. He didn't need to issue an order: his soldiers opened fire on the incoming troops. All of them were expert marksmen, and each of their shots hit its target. Their weapons were effective enough that they could cause severe damage, even to First Order armour. Except the Chrome armoured trooper. The shots bounced off the plate and, although they briefly halted the stormtrooper's step, they never caused a full stop. That was unexpected, Commander thought. And it would complicate things.

But a single stormtrooper couldn't face all of them alone, he knew.

'Target the regular troops,' he ordered. He didn't need to explain his orders.

The white stormtroopers continued to poor in, met with a constant volley of fire. Either dead or injured, they went down. But the troops kept coming. And they were just as effective marksmen as Commander's soldiers. Several of them went down a lot sooner than the veteran mercenary would have thought.  
Realizing he had no other choice, he deployed his first safety measure by pressing a button on his wrist com.

The snipers he had ordered to hide on the roof of the shuttle emerged, took aim and fired. Each of their shots resulted in a kill and the added firepower was proving beneficial as the stormtroopers' numbers dwindled faster.

-0-

As the new volley rained down on her troops, Captain Phasma realized what she was dealing with. She had assumed that the crew they would face was comprised of professionals; no one else would have dared stage such an attack against a First Order battlecruiser. But there was a difference between professionalism and strategy. And whoever was commanding this team was a strategist.

Phasma ordered those troopers who had already entered the hangar to lay down cover fire, both against the main force of their enemy on the ground, and their snipers. Those who hadn't yet entered the hangar were ordered to remain where they were until they received further orders. Phasma had made one mistake, she wouldn't make anymore.

As she took cover behind a crate while her remaining team exchanged fire with the invaders, she reached for one of the smoke grenades she had attached to her belt. It would provide her with a bit of time to change the game. She armed the grenade and let it fly, breaking her cover for a brief instant. It didn't take long for the smoke to burst from the grenade and cover their assailants. This would give her a few moments.

Phasma typed orders into her wrist com, some to the troopers, others to her armour's system to send the data collected on the hangar's explosive devices sent to her visor. It only took her a second to identify her targets, prime her blaster and prepare to fire.

Phasma's mistake had been to assume that the assailants expected an attack on all sides. Surveillance had revealed that they had placed bombs on all the blast doors protecting the entrance, bombs that would go off once the doors were opened. To limit her losses and end the takeover rapidly, she had decided to attack only one entrance and had therefore done exactly what they had expected.

Now, she intended to use those disused explosives to her advantage.

She rose up from behind the crate, aimed and fired at the explosives on one door. Then another, followed by another and so forth until they had all blown. As explosions rang out around them, the troops she had ordered to remain outside poured into the hangar firing through the smoke at their invaders. As Phasma had planned, they had assumed that the other entrances were being forced which meant new stormtroopers attacking them from all sides. Their shots turned to the other entrances, allowing Phasma's forces to take a stronger foothold in the hangar.

The captain turned her blaster to the mercenaries, who had become visible again through the dispersing smoke of her grenade. She managed to take two down before they ducked for cover, defended only by the fire of their snipers on the top of the shuttle.

The hangar wouldn't be theirs for long.

-0-

'That wasn't part of the plan, Commander,' one of the soldiers yelled over the sound of blasterfire.

'No, it wasn't,' he answered. As they both ducked for cover behind the crates.

Five of his men had been killed in this unexpected exchange. Before Commander has even known what was happening, the explosives had detonated and the stormtroopers had opened fire. His team had reacted as professionals did: instinctively. They had believed that the First Order had sent other squads to attack the other entrances, catching them in a crossfire. And they had paid the price.

Whoever was commanding the stormtroopers was a talented tactician, who had turned the tide of the battle against Commander and his soldiers.

Had it not been for the snipers, the operation would be over. But sufficient caution remained among the stormtroopers not to rush into the confrontation. That gave Commander enough time to asset the situation. Not everything was lost. The First Order had advanced, seizing their advantage. Commander would have done the same in their place. But he had planned for such a contingency, knowing something might happen to upset his plans.

'OK, soldiers,' he shouted. 'Grenades, prepare to throw on my command. And ready the stunners.'

Their right hands tapped the side of their helmets twice to show they had acknowledged the order. Commander reached for one of his grenades and primed it.

'THROW,' he ordered. Several grenades flew at the same time, hitting the durasteel floor of the hangar where the stormtroopers were standing. Some saw what had been thrown and attempted to move away while others remained oblivious to the threat. The explosions caused damage in their ranks, but not enough to convince them that they could not advance. Commander smiled to himself; it was exactly that attitude that he had wanted to inspire in them.

Both the snipers and the soldiers exchanged fire with the stormtroopers, costing another life to Commander's team and many more to the First Order. And the troopers kept coming.

'Now, Commander?'

'No. Draw them in further, we need them to be as close to us as possible.'

It was risky, but necessary. He needed the effect to be brutal on the morale of the troopers. So, he and his soldiers kept firing, taking one more loss. But eventually, Commander judged that the stormtroopers were close enough.

'STUNNERS, NOW,' he ordered.

Several of his soldiers pressed a button on their wrist coms and small droids, similar to the one that had disabled the bridge, sprung up from their backs and headed for the stormtroopers. The effect was blinding, as bursts of electricity emanated from their appendages and fried several troopers where they stood. The intensity of the blasterfire coming their way lowered as the droids became the focus of the First Order's troops.

'FIRE,' Commander ordered. And his soldiers obeyed, taking several stormtroopers down and forcing those that remained back.

A relative lull came over the hangar as the fighting winded down. Several troopers still engaged the droids and a few even tried to shoot for the soldiers, but most of them had withdrawn, either by command or by instinct. But the result was the same and Commander was satisfied with his brief victory.

However, as he took cover once again behind the crates, he wondered how much longer he could hold this position. He had surprised the First Order twice, despite an ingenious tactic on their part to reclaim momentum. He doubted he could surprise them again.

Once more, Commander resisted the impulse to look at his chrono.

-0-

'We can't use that hangar,' FN-2187 said as they turned a corner, saw the mass of stormtroopers before them and heard the distant sounds of fighting.

He had hoped to go to one of the smaller hangars, one where security was lower than the larger ones. But that plan wasn't going to work. Now, the larger hangar was probably their best option, as most of the First Order's efforts would be focused on this smaller one. It still didn't make FN-2187 feel any better about going there.

'Then what do we do?' The pilot asked him.

'Follow me, quickly.'

However, as they turned to leave, they became aware of footsteps behind them.

'Hide,' FN-2187 said.

'Why? Aren't these disguises supposed to do that for us?'

'Yes, but if we're seen turning from a combat situation, we'll become immediate suspects. Hiding is our best option.'

Luckily, the pilot didn't complain.

Opening the door nearest them, they hid inside the room, sealing the door behind them. An uneasy silence settled at first, before the pilot spoke.

'How do we know when it's possible to move again? We can't stay here for long.'

'Our armours are linked to the First Order's battle network. If an engagement is happening in the hangar, we'll be able to follow any squad's movements and know when it'll be possible to move.'

Quickly, FN-2187 showed the pilot how to patch into the battle network and soon they had all the information they needed on the engagement happening in the hangar.

-0-

Kylo Ren and his party had moved as fast as possible and had now reached the corridor leading to the hangar their shuttle was waiting in. But, as they had expected, the corridor was packed with stormtroopers.

Ren stopped as he took them in. His lightsaber remained in his hand, unlit.

A few moments passed during which nothing happened. Then one of the stormtroopers, who had been reaching into a munitions box, noticed them. He immediately signalled the remaining troops about the intruders. Suddenly, half of a whole battalion had their weapons trained on Kylo Ren's dark figure.

And yet, he still didn't move.

The mercenaries behind him hid their nervousness by preparing their weapons. They waited for Ren to provide them with instructions, as he had before. And the things they had just seen him do in the detention level had convinced them that he didn't need their help. Their only mission was to secure Lor San Tekka, who remained between them, hands bound and still as docile as a tauntaun. But even they felt worried as they saw the number of stormtroopers facing them.

But Kylo Ren still didn't move. Whatever he seemed to be waiting for hadn't happened yet. If he was waiting for something.

There was no warning from the troopers. Unlike the squad that had confronted them in the cells, these didn't bother ordering them to surrender. After a brief analysis of the situation, they opened fire.

That was when Ren reacted.

As the first shot was fired, he raised his right hand with such speed that neither of the mercenaries were sure whether they had seen him move or not.

The blaster bolts froze in mid-air, all of them. It took a moment for the mercenaries to register what was happening: several dozen bolts of pure energy remained still in the air between them and the stormtroopers. Faint sizzles coming from each of them filled the silence with an eerie tremor reminiscent of the call before a storm. The bolts were still struggling, trying to reach their targets. But they didn't move an inch.

Neither the mercenaries nor the stormtroopers could look away from the unnatural sight.

The first to move was Kylo Ren.

He pushed his hand, palm outward, towards the stunned troopers. And the bolts obeyed his silent command, spraying the waiting stormtroopers with the fire they had directed at their enemy. Those who remained faltered, looking at the… _sorcery_ that had just happened before them. None of them had been equipped or even prepared to fight against such things. Nevertheless, they were soldiers of the First Order and they would not run from an enemy.

They aimed their blasters at Ren again, but another sharp hand gesture changed that. The blasters turned, pulling the troopers with them, and the shots hit the white armour of their comrades. Few of the shots cost any of the troopers their lives but they were thrown to the ground, each with a gaping hole in their armour and a fresh injury.

Then, Ren started to move, his lightsaber activating and his pacing quickening to speeds no human could reach. The troopers fired at the blur he had become, but the lucky few that reached him were deflected by the blade. The red blade hit every which way and eliminated all stormtrooper standing in its path. Ren continued to move the remaining length of the corridor to the hangar door, sparing none.

-0-

'Impossible,' the pilot said, as they watched the feed provided by the battle network.

FN-2187 was feeling the same way. He knew that what he had seen had really happened: had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would probably have told himself that it hadn't really happened, that there had to be another explanation. But feeds didn't lie and the one they had just seen had been clear. FN-2187 wasn't sure how he had done it, but he had. A single man had taken out an entire battalion of stormtroopers. Alone.

And he had done it all using some sort of power.

First Order instructors provided mandatory information for all troopers on the wide range of psychic and paranormal abilities in the galaxy. Some species had a natural ability for certain abilities, while isolated cases in unlikely species were possible. Certain drugs were even rumoured to develop such abilities, such as limited telepathy, for a brief time. The First Order disapproved of such abilities and any person displaying these traits was to be considered dangerous.

But what he had seen had been so much more than anything they had described. He had never seen or even heard of anything like this.

But they couldn't afford to think about it for too long. The onslaught they had just witnessed had given them an opportunity. If all the stormtroopers were dead or busy dealing with such a clear and present danger, they wouldn't be focusing on anything else. FN-2187 didn't like it, too many things could still go wrong, but they had a shot at reaching the main hangar. It was their last chance.

'We need to go,' he said.

But the pilot, for some reason, had gone completely still.

'Did you hear me?' FN-2187 said and, when the pilot still didn't react, he shook him out of his reverie.

The mask still hid his face but, having been raised among masks all his life, FN-2187 knew that something had shaken him. His body language told him that. He thought he knew what it was, because it had shaken him to. What they had witnessed at the entrance of the hangar had been harrowing to see. But they didn't have time to waste processing.

'We need to go, now,' he repeated urgently.

'I just…' the pilot hesitantly started.

'Yes, I did too. But we can't afford to think about it now. We need to reach the main hangar as fast as possible.'

For a moment, FN-2187 thought that the pilot had been so traumatized by what he had seen that he wouldn't be able to bring him out of his haze. A knot of fear contracted his stomach ever more tightly; if that was possible.

'You're right,' the pilot said. His voice still sounded strained from whatever shock he had just experienced, but the resolve FN-2187 had seen in his eyes when he had broken him out of the detention level had returned. Relief flooded over the defecting stormtrooper, who had feared that his plan to escape had just been ruined by whatever lethargy had come over his new companion.

'Will the main hangar have accessible TIEs?' he asked.

'Of course.'

'And won't it be crawling with stormtroopers because of the alert?'

'No, after such an attack, forces will be redeployed from the strongest locations of the battlecruiser to retake the compromised hangar. The larger hangars are more heavily fortified than the smaller ones. So, its forces will most likely head here.

'So, this should be easy.'

'Yes. Easy…'

-0-

Phasma had not expected such resistance from the invaders, or such coordination. Not only had they held the hangar against her attempt to reclaim it, but they had also thrown her troopers back. Twice. She had never expected that anyone could stand up to the First Order like that. But what she had least expected was how the battle eventually ended. She had never expected their defeat to come from behind.

When she first registered the battle taking place in the corridor accessing the hangar, where the rest of her battalion was waiting, her first thought was that the battlecruiser had been attacked by another force and that the one sent to the hangar had been a distraction.

But by the time she had connected into a different feed of the battle network to see what was happening, her surprise grew even more.

Most of the troops she had kept in reserve, should they be needed, had been decimated by a black-clad figure in a mask… who was wielding a lightsaber. It was uncommon to see such weapons these days, especially not in action. Phasma had never come face to face with such a weapon. And neither had most of her troops.  
By the time she had assessed the threat, Phasma's troops had been whittled down and only a dozen remained with her in the hangar.

'Secure the entrance," she ordered. The stormtroopers obeyed instantly, their confusion at such a change in command not appearing for even a second. Still firing to provide cover for themselves just as they beat their retreat, they headed back for the entrance. Phasma was the last to leave.

But before any of them could reach the entrance, the black figure appeared, his blade still ignited in his hand.

The first few troopers didn't see him and paid for it with their lives. The blade made short work of them, just as it would make short work of the rest.

Phasma sent an alert through her wrist comm, requesting more troops be sent to the hangar, before turning her blaster to deal with this new threat. She had always been a good shot and she knew that she wouldn't miss her target, not at this distance and not with him occupied by the few stormtroopers who remained and who desperately tried to stop him. She knew they wouldn't but that she would.

After aiming carefully, Phasma fired… and registered the figure turning to her the instant she pulled the trigger. The bolt met the red blade and changed course, returning to where it had come from. It entered the barrel of Phasma's blaster, destroying it. The small explosion the blaster made as it was destroyed forced her back a step, although her armour protected her from any actual damage. Yet, she suddenly found herself flying as a wave of air stronger than she had ever felt threw her back. Phasma landed hard on her back and even her armour wasn't enough to absorb the shock. Pain coursed through her, and she muffled a cry. One of both pain and rage.

She pulled herself back up to see that none of her troops remained. The snipers and the other shooters had stopped firing as the last of their enemies went down and were beginning to retreat into their shuttle. The black figure had deactivated his blade and was heading straight for the ramp, followed by two mercenaries holding onto Lor San Tekka.

So Hux had been right: this had been about Tekka.

Phasma hadn't been sure when he had ordered her to send troops to the detention level, but the evidence was before her now. This had never been about bringing down the _Finalizer_ or about striking out against the First Order. It had all been about Tekka.

What this crew wanted with the Explorer, she didn't know. Neither did she particularly care; they were organized and dangerous, that was what mattered. They needed to be destroyed.

Reaching for her handheld blaster, still tied to her belt, Phasma primed it into tracking mode. Just as the ramp began to rise and she started to hear the engines powering up to take the shuttle away, she aimed and fired. The tracker latched itself onto the shuttle with ease. Thanks to that, the First Order would be able to track this dangerous enemy to their destination.

The ramp closed, the shuttle rose and turned before firing its engines and speeding out of the ship, leaving Phasma alone among the bodies of mercenaries and stormtroopers, in the wreck that the once pristine hangar had been.


	11. Update

**Author's note and update :**

 **Hi to all. I know it's been a while but, unfortunately, this is not a new chapter. While I have made progress on it and still plan to finish this fanfiction, I've been working on another writing project. I have no idea when the next chapter will be finished so I'm not going to give you any false hopes.**

 **But I'm not done with this Rewrite by a long shot. In fact, it has grown far larger than what I originally planned when I started it over year ago. Then, I was just planning to rewrite the Force Awakens along the lines of the story I would have liked to see. Now, it has grown to include several changes to The Last Jedi and even expanded into a story for Episode IX. But more than that, there are even moments from the Prequels, the Original Trilogy and even Rogue One that I feel like rewriting.**

 **So, instead of writing only a continuous story like my Rewrite of the Force Awakens, I might occasionally upload threads from other moments of the franchise that only follow one thread or certain characters.**

 **I hope you'll all enjoy them ^^.  
**

 **Bad0Wolf**


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